Partners
by litra
Summary: In the wake of a major jail break Batman goes missing. With Terry seemingly oblivious, Matt decides to take matters into his own hands. Told from Matt's POV with some sections from Bruce Terry and whoever else I need. rated T for limited violence. FFDCU
1. Chapter 1

Partners: a Batman Beyond fanfic.

Summery: In the wake of a major jail break Batman goes missing. With Terry seemingly oblivious, Matt decides to take matters into his own hands.

Genre: Mystery/thriller.

* * *

section one:

Matt stayed up late that night, like most nights. It had been almost 5 months since he had discovered his brother's secret life. He had the stolen communicator tucked under his pillow and turned down low so that it couldn't be heard by anyone more then three feet away. His mom was asleep. His mom thought he was asleep. In truth he was listening. There had been a jail break. Blight had broken out of his high security cell and burned his way through half a cell block before cutting through the outer wall and making a b-line for the river. The police couldn't get close; he was giving off too much radiation even for the special unit. Commissioner Gordon had pulled her men back until they could get some better equipment. That had of course left the field free for Batman. Matt didn't know for sure, but he suspected the commissioner was in on the secret. Sometimes she did things that were a little too convenient. Of course that wasn't the only problem. When Blight had broken out a dozen others had fallowed in his wake. In one word: chaos. Matt was glued to the communicator. He wasn't going to miss a moment. Bruce Wayne asked if his brother could see Blight yet.

"Hard to miss him. He's leaving a trail a blind man could follow. I don't like it. All this random destruction isn't his style. Destruction maybe but not a rampage like this." Matt's brother always sounded different over the communicator. Maybe it was something in the mask but he could always tell it was Batman on the other end of the line, not just Terry.

"Think about it after he's back in maximum security." Mr. Wayne was different too, but in another way. Matt had only met him a few times. Each time it had seemed like he was acting. It was a very good act, but people didn't keep their guard up around kids as much. It didn't hurt that Matt knew what to look for. The looks between Mr. Wayne and his brother. The way he walked, even with the cane. The way he saw everything and said nothing. The way he could stand so still and seem to disappear even though you were looking right at him. It was creepy.

"Alright, I'm going in." Batman said over the communicator. For the umpteenth time Matt wished he could see what was happening as well as hear it. He had tried to rig up a screen once but the signal was encrypted.

"Remember the extra armor will protect you from the radiation, but restrict your movement." Mr. Wayne might be able to see what was happening. He seemed to see everything from his secret base.

Matt listened as his brother and Blight fought. He imagined each punch and kick as the sounds came through the speaker.

His brother won of course. Batman always won. The police finally got there Mr. Wayne pulled Terry out of the fray by reminding him of all the others who had escaped. His brother made a smart remark about not getting any sleep. Matt checked the clock. Sure enough, it was after 3. Matt turned off the receiver, and tucked it back into it's hiding spot inside one of the posts of his bed. He rolled over and was asleep in moments. It was a talent he had always had. Being able to fall asleep anywhere and wake up whenever he wanted to. His brother might be falling asleep in class but no one was going to find out he was missing sleep.

The next morning he ignored the paper as usual. He already knew the interesting stuff anyway. His mom on the other hand was frantic. Even with Blight back in police custody, several of the others were still on the loose. She fussed over him all morning making him promise to come straight home after school. He had to pretend to run off to the bathroom in order to slip into his brothers room. Terry hadn't come home. He had expected as much. He rumpled up the bed a bit as if it had been slept in and then clumsily made. His mom had the idea that Terry had came home late and left early for his job with Mr. Wayne. She had no idea how seldom he slept in his bed. Matt kept it that way. He grabbed his bag and ran for the bus.

At school he ignored the history lesson and hacked into his brothers computer instead. He checked the login record. His brother had logged in within 50 feet of the high school. He had probably gone straight there after a long night. That meant he was alright. Some of the bad guys had managed to go to ground, but they would get theirs eventually. For the moment his brother was safe. He went on ignoring the lecture and did his homework instead.

He came home right after school, just as his mom had told him to. She wasn't home yet. This was his favorite time of day. He made a sandwich, and carried it around with him. He went through his brother's room again; rearranging several little things to make it look lived in. he knew his mom wouldn't be home for another two hours. Even with Terry's 'part time job' she still had to work longer hours then she used to. Because of this she had signed Matt up for an after school program at the local center. Lucky for him, they were over crowded and under staffed. As long as he stuck around a few days a week he could slip out the rest of the time. Still, he couldn't be home when she got here, that would be out of character. He would come home half an hour after she did. She would tell him he should be more careful and maybe get angry. He would say that all his friends had gone to play soccer at the center. She would back off since the center was supposedly a safe place for kids and all that. He would get off with a warning. In the mean time, he took a nap.

He woke up when someone came in. he checked the clock. His mom was home early? That wasn't right. He heard the front door close and there was a soft thump as something was dropped onto the couch. Matt slipped out of his room and down the hall. He peeked through into the living room. It was Terry. He flopped down onto the couch running a hand through his hair. He looked tired. The nights had been quiet for the past week or so, but last night had been more then enough to make up for it. Terry just sat there for a minuet. Then he opened his eyes, straightened his shoulders and stood up. Even worn out as he was, he was strong. His phone rang and he pulled it out. He checked the number then answered.

"Hey." pause. "Slag it, they're not even waiting until dark." short pause. "Right, I know. I'm on it."

Matt ducked back into his room as his brother grabbed his bag and went to his room. He watched through the cracks in the door as Batman got ready. Batman slid the window open then touched something on his belt. A moment later he was invisible. Matt could hear him as he stepped out onto the windowsill. Then his booster rockets flared and Matt had to look away.

Matt waited until he was sure Batman was no where near. Then he went into his brother's room and shut the window. He didn't bother to latch it. They were five floors up. It wasn't as if anyone was going to be sneaking in.


	2. Chapter 2

section two:

That night Matt mapped out what had happened over the past 24 hours. Thirteen high security inmates had escaped; Nine of them had managed to go to ground. That included Shriek, Inque, and Spellbinder. Several top members of cobra had also escaped. There had been a fight when they had been cornered. Other cobras had been called in for backup. That was when Batman had showed up and the tide had turned. Several cobras had been captured, and not just those who had escaped. Now there were six escapees who were still on the loose. All of them had caused major trouble in the past. All of them were considered highly dangerous. Worst, all of them were smart. The next week was going to be hell for Batman. Matt knew there was nothing he could do, practically speaking, to help his brother. He wasn't the one out there. He wasn't even the one in the background like Mr. Wayne. Max was a better hacker then he was. The only reason he was able to listen in at all was because his brother was an idiot who thought stuffing his equipment under his bed would make it unnoticeable. Once he had his hands on the equipment getting the frequency had been easy. All he had had to do was pull the key strokes off one of the analyzers. Once he had those, he used his knowledge of his brother to work out his password. He couldn't get into any of the voice activated stuff but most of the bat-gadgets that he had managed to borrow could be used without the voice print. They had locators of course, and Matt had yet to figure out how to get around them. As long as they were in the apartment though, that didn't matter.

Batman canvased the city until the small hours of the mourning, before Mr. Wayne let him return home for a few hours sleep. Matt found him when he snuck into his room in the mourning. He had fallen into bed without bothering to take off even his shoes. Matt was glad to see that he had at least hidden the bat-suit. Matt crept out of the room without waking his brother. He pestered his mom until she agreed to make pancakes for breakfast. The smell and his alarm eventually drew Terry out of his room. Their mom welcomed him, exclaiming about how he was actually there for breakfast. Matt knew better. The only reason he was home was because it was closer then Wayne manor. He was only awake at all because Matt had made it a point to talk loudly while passing his room several times. Terry's phone buzzed from his pocket. Matt made the obligatory comment teasing him about his girlfriend. Terry was still too asleep to come up with a comeback, which showed just how out of it he was. He checked the number then answered.

"Hey Max."

He had to yank the phone away from his head as it squealed. Matt stuck his fingers in his ears as the feedback from the phone peeked in volume then cut off suddenly, leaving everyone's ears ringing. Matt didn't take his fingers out of his ears just in case the sound started up again. Terry stared at his phone. He blinked several times. He was clearly no longer half asleep. His mom said something along the lines of getting his phone checked. Terry grunted and seemed to come back to himself. His mom told Matt to take his fingers out of his ears. She told them to finish eating quickly or they were going to be late. Matt shoveled the rest of his breakfast into his mouth. Finished, he ran to his room, ignoring his moms call to at least take his dishes to the sink. He picked up his bag, and looked around. There was something else. What was he forgetting? What was it? He checked his bag, but nothing looked missing or out of place.

"Matt, you're going to be late." his mom called from the other room.

"Right." he called back, without moving. He looked at his bed. He hadn't bothered to make his bed even though his mom was always nagging at him to. His bed, sleep. Right, thats what it was. He pulled out the disk with the data he had put together the night before, and stuffed it into his bag.

His brother, Batman, the jailbreak, it all drifted through his mind as he ran for the bus. He didn't think there was much he could do but he at least wanted to keep up with what was going on. It had been that way ever since he had discovered the truth.

At first he had wanted to be a part of it all. He had discovered his brother's equipment on a day that was like any other. Terry had come out to breakfast. Matt seeing the door to his brothers room slightly open had gone inside. Terry had left the window open. It was getting on into fall so Matt went to shut the window. On the way back he had stumbled as he was passing his brothers bed. There were plenty of things for him to trip on, the room was messy enough. He caught himself on one knee, his right hand on the bed. That was when he had seen it. The bat suit. He began to reach for it but his mom called for him to come eat while there was still time. So, he left it where it was. He though it must be some kind of joke at first. An abandoned halloween costume or something. Then he remembered something his brother had once said. There had been a program on TV that was going to tell the world who Batman was. Just before the show started Terry had said he was Batman. Matt and his mom had broken out into laughter. It couldn't have been anything but a joke. Only, after finding the bat suit, Matt wasn't so sure.

His next thought was that it was some kind of prank. Terry was setting him up. So he snuck back into his room; only to find the suit gone. At the time Terry had been out working for Mr. Wayne. It wasn't that hard to put it together. Over the next week Matt had spied on his brother until he finally had another opportunity to look at the suit. It was the real thing, that was obvious. He made a plan to confront his brother, and waited until his mom wasn't home.

He never got around to the confrontation. When he had tried he had seen the bruises on his brothers upper arm and around the bace of his neck. Terry was hiding them well. You couldn't tell they were there unless you were close. He was also hiding the pain well. Matt caught him flinch when he turned his head, but only because he had been watching for it. Someone, or something, had tried to strangle his brother, and it seemed they had come close to succeeding. That had made him stop. Matt started to think about what being Batman actually meant. It wasn't just some big adventure. It was dangerous, dangerous enough to get Terry killed if he wasn't careful. Suddenly all the long nights Terry was pulling had a different meaning. The lack of sleep. The change in the way he walked. The way he was constantly alert. All of it began to make sense. Matt began to wonder how he had never noticed before. That had lead him to wonder if their mom knew. Maybe she knew and was hiding it from them. Maybe Terry had told her and they hadn't told him in order to protect him or something. The longer he watched the more convinced he was that that wasn't the case. She honestly had no idea her son was a superhero. That was when Matt had started helping Terry hide his secret. Moving things around in his room, rumpling the bed, stealing extra food and making it look like his brother was eating it. Their mom continued her life in blissful ignorance.

At lunch Matt commandeered one of the school computers and used Batman's access codes to find out what Terry had done after Matt had fallen asleep around midnight. He updated his own data and went to work on trying to figure out what Mr. Wayne would tell Terry to do next. From there he would figure out where the escapees were hiding. After that Batman would take care of them. Mr. Wayne was probably ten steps ahead of him but Matt was getting better. It was a puzzle, one that he never got tired of.

Note: please review, it helps me write faster and better. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Section three:

For the second time in two days, Terry came home early. Matt watched from the hall as Terry came in, threw his bag on the couch and flopped down next to it. Normally he was called away by Dana, failing that Max or Mr. Wayne would commandeer him. He seemed restless, like he didn't know what to do with himself. After a minute he picked up his phone and speed dialed.

"Hay Dana, what? No."

Matt stopped listening. It was one thing when Terry was talking to Mr. Wayne, but Dana was just boring. He crept back to his room. He had to get out of the house before Terry noticed him; it wasn't like he could get anything done with him around anyway. It didn't make sense for Terry to be home, not with a major jail break only two days ago. Matt emptied his backpack of books and homework; refilling it with a number of odds and ends that he found useful. Unlike half the kids in his class who just slung their bags over a shoulder half zipped and practically falling open, Matt wore his bag snug against his back where it wouldn't hinder him if he needed to run, or in this case, climb. He opened his window.

Their apartment was on the fifth floor, meaning the only safe way down was the fire escape. The problem was that the fire escape wasn't outside Matts window, it was outside his mom's. His mom kept her window tightly shut and the curtains were perpetually closed just in case someone got the idea to rob the building. There was no way he could sneak out her window without her noticing that the curtains and latch were open. To get around this Matt was going to sneak out his own window, crossing the six feet to the fire escape in the proses.

Matt had first snuck out his window the week after his mom had signed him up for that after school thing. Since then he had perfected the stunt. A length of clothesline, one of his old remote control cars, a bit of string, and one of the hooks from his closet was all he needed to make it look like no one had ever used the window.

His window was the type that opened by being pushed up until it clicked into place. To close the window after he was out, he set up his remote control car upside-down beneath the windowsill. He tied the string to one of the wheels then connected the other end to the latch on the window. Once outside he could set the car going and it would pull the window shut. If anyone went onto his room it would look like the car had been forgotten and the string had been thrown on top of it. That was the easy part. The other part he stole from Batman, not his brother, the original Batman. If a grappling hook was part of Terry's gear Matt would have taken the risk and stolen it. Since that wasn't the case, he made due with what he had.

He tied the clothesline to the hook and tugged at it a few times experimentally. The hook had been advertised as being able to hold up to 75 pounds. Matt had tested it out and found that it was the wall that broke, not the hook. Matt leaned out the window and tossed the hook in a lazy arc so that it looped over the railing of the fire escape. Pulling the rope in, the hook caught on the railing. He then tied the other end of the rope to his dresser, pulling it tight. Matt had moved his dresser into the perfect spot a few months back. At the time he had turned his whole room into a giant fort with the sheets from his bed. His mom had humored him, and he had never moved the dresser back afterward. He checked the rope was secure, made sure the car was in place then stuck his head out the window. He had never been caught, coming out the window this way but that didn't mean he wasn't going to check just in case.

Sure that no one was watching, both from the ally below and the windows above, he swung himself out onto the line. For a moment he hung upside down, hands gripping the line with his knees still hooked over the windowsill. He reoriented himself then shifted until he could hook his legs over the line as well. He crossed the gap by pulling himself with his hands and sliding forward with his knees until he could reach the railing of the fire escape. Then came the tricky part. Matt grabbed the railing maneuvering until he was half twisted around with his arms crossed. In one movement he unhooked his knees from the rope and swung around. He hit the fire escape with a soft thud, the bottom edge of the structure cutting into his upper thighs. From there he wriggled, pulling himself up until he had a foothold and could swing over the railing. His feet hit the platform, and he took a moment to check himself over. That stunt had left him with bruises more then once. Not having the right gear was a pain, especially since it was part of the batman legacy to swing over rooftops on wires.

Reassured that he was in one piece and no one had noticed him, he once more set to work on the rope. This was the real flaw in his escape: He hadn't yet found a way to get the clothesline back in through his window. But then, that was why he was using clothesline. With the hook tucked into his backpack he tied the line the the balcony railing with a slipknot. Anyone looking up would assume someone was using to save a few creds. He pulled out the car's remote and used it to pull his window shut. Satisfied that it looked inaccessible once again, he began his climb to the ground.

He effortlessly slipped into the flow of people heading for the station. There were a couple of things he could work on but he didn't really have anything planed. Terry had thrown him for a bit of a loop, coming home like that. Matt hadn't shown his face at the center for a few days, he could go there. Maybe he'd go to the library; he could always get a computer there for his "homework". Then again, he could swing by the arcade and waste some time there.

They had a new sim that matched your body type and reaction times. In chase mode you could literally dodge bullets if you were fast enough. Matt hadn't managed it yet but he was getting better. The game was set about a century ago, just before the first batman had shown up. You could play in any of four cities, Metropolis, Gotham, Coast City or Central City, and there were tons of different modes. He probably should have gotten ahead on his homework, or done some more research into the puzzle that the jail break was turning into. He chose the arcade.


	4. Chapter 4

That evening Matt came home in high spirits. He didn't have a cent left from his allowance but he had managed to cap his old high score and discovered a hidden power up. His Mom would of course be angry since she was still in her "it's not safe out there" mode, but he could handle whatever punishment she decided to dish on him. He tossed his bag into his room then headed for the kitchen. He stopped before he could turn the corner. He could hear his mom moving around making dinner, but that wasn't the odd thing. She was talking to Terry. That alone wouldn't have made him stop. It wasn't that odd for her to call Terry in the evening and ask if he would be home for dinner. The odd thing was that Terry's voice didn't sound like it was coming through a vid-phone. Matt crept forward and peeked around the doorway. His mom was at the stove, but even as she checked on what Matt thought was pasta she kept turning back around to look at her eldest son.

"Are you sure? I'm glad you're home but it seems a bit sudden. Mr. Wayne doesn't need you tonight?"

Terry was at the kitchen table. What was he still doing at home? He seemed distracted and kept fiddling with his glass of water without actually drinking any of it. He nodded absently. "Normally he calls me when he needs me. That or there's some project or..." his voice trailed off.

"Is everything alright?"

"Ya, it's just... Like that fundraiser. I knew about all that ahead of time. I called him earlier, and he said he couldn't think of anything for me to do. It was a bit strange..."

his mom either hadn't heard him or wasn't paying attention.

"Well i'm glad you get the night off for once. I know you like this job but you've been spending so much time up at that manor. Matt and I hardly see you anymore. This might even give you a chance to bring your grades up a bit." leaning ageist the counter she crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look.

"I've been busy."

she gave in. "I know." she crossed the room softly laying a hand on his shoulder as she passed. "Now Matthew McGinnis, why don't you come in here and explain exactly where you have been all afternoon."

Matt winced, busted. He crossed the room getting a glass out of the cupboard rather then look at his mom. "I just went to the arcade, no big deal."

"I'll say when it's a big deal young man. There are dangerous people out there, and you didn't even bother to check in. I called you twice. Is your phone even turned on? A vid-phone is a privilege, if you can't even handle the responsibility-"

"Mom it is on I swear, I just didn't hear it. The arcade's loud." he hung his head, looking down at his still empty glass, the picture of a sorry kid."

"Don't try that on me, it won't work. Now get to your room and you better have some finished homework to show me when you come out to dinner."

That wasn't too bad but Matt protested anyway for the sake of appearances. "But mom." he managed to lengthen the last word until it had three syllables.

"Now, and no TV tonight."

He pouted, then turned and stomped back to his room. He closed the door harder then necessary, then dropped the act. He hid the evidence of his earlier escape through the window, all the while thinking about what he had heard. How was it possible that Mr. Wayne couldn't think of anything for him to do? Was that just something Terry had said? It hadn't seemed that way. In fact everything Terry had done had seemed strange. Matt pulled out his math homework and went through the problems without really thinking about them. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong His mom finally called him for dinner.

The whole family ate in silence. Matt's mom tried to talk to Terry but he was too distracted to participate in a conversation. Matt watched as Terry picked at his salad. Not only was he distracted, he was twitchy. Matt lost count of the times he glanced at the kitchen window hearing some sound outside. Maybe he was waiting for some signal, only if that was the case wasn't there a better place for him to wait, Lake maybe the bat car. If you could call it a car. It wasn't like any other hover-car Matt had ever seen. It was more like one of those jets.

"Thanks for dinner mom." Terry picked up his plate and carried it to the sink, even though it was only half empty. There hadn't been any signal. Matt heard the door to his brother's room close and turned his attention back to his own plate.

Something was wrong. Matt didn't know what, but whatever it was, it was big. There was no reason for him to be as worried as he was but his gut wouldn't stop screaming at him.

"I'm done too." Matt stood up then stopped when his mom caught his arm. She studied his plate making sure he had eaten everything, then released him. She was distracted too. Matt hadn't been the only one to pick up on Terry's strange behavior.

"Finish your peas, then you can go."

Matt didn't argue. He sat back down, finished his peas, then went back to his room without talking. Closing the door, he pulled out the communicator and made sure it was switched on. He listened to static as he finished his homework.

Before bed, Matt snuck a look into his brother's room. Terry was sitting at his desk presumably doing his own homework. Matt's shoulder's slumped. He hadn't realized how much he had been hoping to find his brother gone. At midnight he gave up and turned the communicator off.

Matt was distracted in school the next day. Everything felt wrong. He was twitchy, constantly looking over his shoulder as if someone was going to come after him. He couldn't focus on his classes and with no new information from Batman he couldn't even make any progress on the jailbreak. When he found himself standing outside the school after the last bell he finally realized just how much it was effecting him. This was worse then when his brother was out there fighting the crazies. Batman wasn't just his brother, he was Matt's shield. Just knowing he was there was protection ageist people like Stalker and the Jokerz. When Batman was out there he could get hurt or killed, but he was like the bars on a shark cage; It would be so much worse if he wasn't there. Boarding the buss Matt made his decision. He wasn't going to stay in the dark any more, even if that meant showing his hand.

Hi all. Hope you liked part 4, things will get interesting next chapter I promise. My beta is having computer trouble so please bare with my poor grammar and all that.

Fav and review!

:)


	5. Chapter 5

Bruce Wayne sat behind the desk in his study. Over the years the large room had served multiple purposes, from library to living room. The wall behind the desk was covered floor to ceiling in bookshelves, the contents of which covered almost any topic imaginable. In front of the desk were several couches left over from when he and Alfred hadn't been the only ones living in the house. He could still picture one of the boys, his sons, with homework spread all over the coffee table. Dick would have looked bored tapping his pencil and looking for any excuse to do something else. Tim would have been leaning forward, concentrating utterly on the problem in front of him. Then there was Jason... The old man shook his head and raised his eyes looking past the couches to the fireplace on the opposite wall, and the painting that hung above it. He could still remember his parents even though it had all been so long ago. The figures in the painting looked out and down at a spot on the rug where he had stood on hundreds of occasions. A spot that was currently occupied by his large black dog, Ace. Ace raised his head to look at his master silently asking if anything was wrong. Bruce smiled at the dog, telling him that everything was fine and he should go back to sleep. Ace didn't seem to believe him. Bruce didn't blame him. Even though nothing was wrong, something was definitely off. He idly tapped the file in front of him and turned to look out of the large bay windows. The late spring evening told of a hot summer to come with the light still clinging to the hills and the top of the city skyline beyond. The sky had taken on it's characteristic red glow that his city was known for. The thought pushed at him, something he had forgotten, or, something, no it was gone. He looked down at the file, and the name printed on it in clear black letters: Terry McGinnis. He had read through the file twice already but it didn't add up.

Bruce remembered the night he had hired Terry. He had driven to the McGinnis apartment about a week after that group of Jokerz had come looking for trouble. The boy had been cocky but relatively skilled and more importantly he had stayed calm both during the fight and afterwords. Then a week later he had decided to hire him as an assistant. It made sense, he did need an assistant, but why had he decided on Terry? He couldn't remember; in fact he couldn't remember anything about that week between meeting him and hiring him. It was just a fog. Most of the time since then was a fog as well. He could remember staying up late into the night, like he had when he was younger, but not what he had done or worked on. He had hoped Terry's file would refresh his memory, but the file was a fake. Oh it was a good fake and he had no doubt that he was the one who had set it up. It had all the proper details and just enough of it was true to make it believable. The problem was that Bruce couldn't remember having Terry do most of the things it said he did. In fact he could remember doing some of those things himself. But when he tried to think of what Terry had really been doing it was blank. It sent up about a million red flags, but he couldn't remember why it was so absolutely important. The fact that he couldn't remember large chunks of his life had shaken him badly. Even beyond that though it felt like he was letting someone down, someone important. It felt like when Jason had... but he couldn't even remember that. What had happened? Why couldn't he remember?

Starring down at his hands he realized they were shaking. He wanted to slam his fists onto the desk, and as a younger man he would have but he had had decades to perfect his self control. He calmed his breathing, steadying his heartbeat. He touched a button on the desk bringing up his phone and putting it on speaker, voice only. He didn't like what he had to do, but he could see little other choice.

"Leslie Thompkins charity clinic, this is Emily" the voice on the other end of the line was young and feminine and sounded like the person attached to it hadn't slept in days.

"I'd like to speak with Dr. Mathews about an appointment." Bruce turned to look out over the skyline as he spoke. Ace, hearing his voice, came over to sit by him and have his ears scratched. The light had faded completely from the sky, but the city still shone with it's own light.

"She's with a patient, can I assist you?"

"I'd prefer to speak with her directly."

"I'm sorry but she probably won't be able to get away. We've been extremely busy all day."

"She'll talk to me. Just tell her that Bruce Wayne called, I'll wait."

The name worked it's magic as it always did and the girl hurried to comply. It didn't hurt that his money nearly singlehandedly kept the Leslie Thompkins clinic open. Dr. Amy Mathews didn't keep him waiting long.

"Mr. Wayne?" she sounded even more tired then her assistant. It had been a long 12 years since she had taken over as head doctor from the clinics founder and namesake. Leslie had never bothered to retire, instead fighting to help thous who needed her until she literally could not hold a syringe or wrap a bandage. Luckily she had had an assistant with as much heart as she had who could fill her shoes at least in part. Dr. Amy Mathews had proved herself on more then one occasion.

"Hello Amy, I'm afraid I need to make a rather urgent appointment. Can you see me tomorrow?" he heard her sigh through her teeth and type something out.

"Mr. Wayne..."

"Bruce, please, and I know you're busy. I wouldn't ask, but I need someone who I can trust not to lie to my face."

She sighed again. "Alright, but it'll have to be in the evening, Six?"

"That would be fine, thank you." he cut the connection, and leaned back in his chair. Even that didn't feel right. He glared at nothing in particular then made a note of the appointment in case he forgot that as well. At least tomorrow he would have something for Terry to do.

* * *

Matt knew Terry was home even before he opened the door. He could hear him moving around. Terry could be amazingly quiet when he wanted to be, but he didn't have the practice to be quiet when he wasn't thinking about it. Plus he had his music playing. Matt threw his bag onto a chair and followed his brother's off key humming to the kitchen.

Terry was assembling a sandwich with multiple layers and three different types of cold cuts. He nodded at Matt as the younger of the two brothers flopped into a chair.

"Hey squirt. Good day at school?" Terry took a detour to the fridge and returned with the mayo and mustard.

"It was ok..." Matt was determined to confront his brother but to be honest he had no idea where to start. Or maybe he was just too scared. Batman had never been a good guy. He wasn't like Superman or Green Lantern. You never really knew what Batman would do.

"Terry?"

"Yep?" Terry finished up his sandwich and cut it in half.

"Well, you know how a few months ago..."

Terry's phone went off inside his pocket. He held up and hand pausing Matt, and fished it out.

"Hello?"

Matt heard Terry's voice change and his heart leapt into his thought. He didn't need to be told who was on the other end of the phone. Terry checked his watch.

"Right, I'll be there in half an hour." He hung up and smiled at Matt. "Sorry Matt, rain check." He grabbed half his sandwich, shoving it into his mouth and pushed the rest in Matt's direction.

"But..." Matt's voice came out as a whimper.

Terry moved towards the door. He turned, halfway into the living room. Taking his sandwich out of his mouth he swallowed. "This'll go late, so tell mom I won't be home for dinner."

Matt's heart was pounding in his ears. His mind was running, playing back everything from the last few days. He had over reacted. Had he over reacted? What did this U-turn mean? What had been going on the past few days that he hadn't been aware of? Had he been discovered? Had the frequency Batman used been changed for some reason? What was going on?

Terry was at the door. He nodded to Matt and would have been gone if Matt hadn't called out.

"Wait, your bag."

Matt scooped up his brother's backpack from where it sat on the couch and ran forward offering it to his brother.

"Thanks, Squirt, but I won't need it." Terry closed the door leaving Matt blinking in surprise.

Careless and clueless his brother might be, but he had never just left the bat suit behind. A thought occurred to Matt and he turned the bag out onto the coffee table searching for the secret pocket he knew was hidden there. It could be that the suit was hidden in his cycle or somewhere that Matt didn't know about, it probably wasn't even in the bag. Matt found the pocket and leaned in to examine it. At first it looked like a simple zipper but at a second look the pull turned out to be a thumb print scanner. It was a simple thing compared to other batman technology, but it was good enough to make Matt pause and consider his options. With time and a bit of planning he could get his brothers print and use it to hack the relatively simple lock. On the other hand, if the suit was in there, time was probably what he didn't have. He could try to hack in without the print but there were more then even odds that he would set off something and potentially blow something up.

He checked the time. There were about two hours until his mom would be home. Terry probably wouldn't be a problem unless Matt set off some sort of alarm. The chances that the suit was even in there was probably really low. Still, Matt had been dieing to get his hands on it since he had first worked it all out. He leaned back on the couch looking at the backpack and waiting for some flash of inspiration.

Terry's music still played from the kitchen. It wasn't that Matt didn't like it, it just made it hard to think. He pushed himself up, his mind still working on the problem. In the kitchen he turned off the music. In the silence he stared at the player. The ideas still stubbornly refused to come. Matt turned and picked up the plate with his half of the sandwich on it. His eyes lingered on the other objects on the table. Terry had already put away most of the sandwich stuff before Mr. Wayne called. The bread, mustard and mayo however were still on the table. An idea flitted by and Matt snatched it out of the air.

Matt put away the bread but didn't touch the two condiments. Remembering how his brother had held the two bottles he was sure he could get a print off at least one of them. From there it would depend on how complicated the programing was on the bag. That thought made Matt jump out of his seat to take a look at the object in question. He didn't bother repacking his brother's books, just picked up the bag and turned back to the kitchen. He stopped before he had taken two steps. Looking down at the bag it was clearly empty. He hefted it experimentally. It didn't feel empty. In fact, it felt like it was still full of books. A grin crept onto Matt's face and grew until he was sure his face would split in half. That settled it. Putting aside his brothers actions, Matt couldn't have been more exited. He set the bag on the kitchen table and went through the mental list of what he would need. Everything was high tech these days people completely ignored the low tech, and even if they bothered to remember they were uncreative about it. People knew about the talcum powder trick but because it was impossible to get talcum power anymore no one bothered with it. Matt couldn't understand how people could be so dense.

Matt spent a few minutes rummaging through the hall closet for the electrical tape he knew was buried in there somewhere. Tape found, he grabbed the flour from the top shelf. He set the mustard bottle in the center of the table away from everything else. Dusting his hands with a light coating of flour he cupped them in front of his face and sent a soft white cloud puffing at the bottle. He carefully turned the bottle until he found the traces of the fingerprints. He covered the area in a second layer. He rinsed his hands and dried them thoroughly before continuing. Next was the tricky part. Messing up would not be good, it might not be disastrous since there was the mayo, but still not good. He cut a piece of tape to the right length, then held his breath and pressed it to the bottle. Pealing it away he found the print mostly intact. Score one for the low-tech.

Matt paused. Now that he had the print he had to find a way to use it without smudging the print and in such a way that the sensor would be fooled. He checked the scanner again. From what he could tell it read the print and registered the amount of pressure but not a pulse. Well, that was one thing at least. Still the pressure thing meant he might need to do a bit of experimenting. He looked down at the print on it's tape. Yet another puzzle, and after a moment the answer came to him, saran wrap. With the clear plastic providing a clear layer between the scanner and the tape he didn't have to worry about smudging and the print could still be scanned.

It took four tries to get the secret pocket open. After the first two Matt had started to get worried. The more tries it took the more likely some sort of alarm was going to go off. Then he had the suit and for the moment discovery was wiped from his mind.

* * *

Note: just to be clear the part from Bruce's POV happens the night before. I was trying to keep it as being only from Matt's POV but in the end that just didn't work. From now on there will be some sections from Wayne's viewpoint and just maybe something from Terry as well. Tell me what you think.

Also, I have still not found another Beta reader so I'm sorry if there are errors. If you tell me about them I will try to fix them. If any of you know a good Beta or are willing to help me out yourselves send me a note or something and I will do something awesome like name a minor character after you or do something else to show my gratitude. Thanks.

As always, please review :)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The things Matt had managed to borrow were mostly extra equipment that Terry kept around as back-ups. The suit wasn't just in another league; it was practically on another planet. There was definitely a part of Matt that was worried that Terry had let the suit get stolen so easily, even if it was only by his little brother. Terry might have been a bit careless with some of his gear at home but that was never the case in the field. It was probably due to a combination of fatigue and comfort. He was simply more lax in a place where he felt safe. Matt almost felt guilty examining the suit; he had to remind himself how Terry had been acting. Mostly though, it was eclipsed with Awe. The suit was amazing. It was strong and flexible and heaver then it looked. It was made of the same stuff they used to make nano-blankets, but somehow it had been tempered to be much harder. And that wasn't even glancing at the mask, or the gloves, or the belt. The belt, Matt didn't dare touch it. If it wasn't isomorphic then at the very least it was probably tricked out with alarms and traps. The gadgets in the belt were probably illegal, and definitely dangerous. Matt was sure there was a failsafe for the suit as well, but he didn't know how it worked.

Even without the belt the mask and gloves were more than enough to keep his attention. The cowl had hundreds of micro-beads built into it that could act as either cushion or protection. The receivers in the ears could pick up anything from wide-band radio to sonar. The censers in the lenses had over fifty settings, most of which Matt couldn't even guess the function of. In addition there were hundreds of passive censers that monitored everything from the air quality, to the heart rate of the wearer. The gloves were a work of art. Weaponry, claws, three different types of baterangs, and all of it was perfectly integrated with concentric rings of censers. Strength enhancing cervo-motors were fit into every joint. Yet even with everything packed into them the gloves, the entire suit, was still as thin and flexible as thick fabric or plastic. It was far beyond what Matt had thought or expected. It was incredible.

He picked up one of the gloves and slid it onto his hand. It was a loose fit since his hand was quite a bit smaller then Terry's. It came up past his elbow, the spines sitting heavily on his forearm. The glove wouldn't fully power up without the rest of the suit, which Matt had no chance of fitting into. There was reserve power though, enough to get the cervo-moters running, even if not at full strength. He flexed his fingers, feeling the extra power. He had to admit, it sent a thrill through him. He flexed his hand again. Out of nowhere a batarang shot out of his wrist and embedded it's self in the ceiling. It hung there quivering. Matt stared at it for almost a full thirty seconds before he realized he was holding his breath. He slowly released it, trying to slow his pounding heart. He could feel the adrenalin kicking in and couldn't help giggling. No wonder his brother sacrificed sleep for this. He looked back down at his gloved hand. Flexing slowly, he could feel the triggers tensing, waiting for the right hand motions to set them off. There would be some way to turn the triggers off, but Matt had no way of guessing what that was. He looked up at the baterang in the ceiling again and decided it was probably wise to take his experiments somewhere where any damage wouldn't be noticed. He tucked the suit back into his brother's bag, grabbed his keys and innocently made his way to the roof.

The apartment building was 8 stories tall, and average for the area. The mostly rural neighborhood was towards the edge of the city proper and solidly middle class. All of that meant that the chances of someone coming up to the roof and discovering him were close to zero. As far as most people in the building were concerned, the roof didn't exist. Then again it wasn't like there was anything up there. Matt strolled across the cracked concrete to a spot in the lee of the water tank. Satisfied that he was out of sight, Matt spread the suit out on the ground.

His first surge of excitement had worn off and a more scientific view had taken its place. Since he probably wouldn't get another chance he was going to figure out how the suit worked, and exactly what it could do. He started with the gloves since he was still wearing one of them. He slid the other on and flexed them in unison. As far as he could tell they both had the same triggers. He pointed across the roof at a random patch of empty sky. He slowly flexed until the first trigger activated. Three triggers later he accidentally found the off switch and the remaining triggers disengaged. Matt waved his hands around randomly but nothing happened, other than the cervo-moters buzzing as they tried to compensate for the random movements. He considered trying to turn the triggers back on but discarded the idea in favor looking over the rest of the suit.

Matt found the main power source on the back of the suit where it would lay between the shoulder blades. Its protective covering reached up far enough to help protect the back of the wearer's neck. There was extra power reserves built into the links of the belt as well so it was possible it never lose power even if the rest of the suit was compromised. Matt tried to trace the power conduits down to the main cervo-moters in the hips and at the base of the spine. As he was shifting the suit he felt the belt under his fingers click. Matt looked down at the suit as if he had just found out it was covered in poison. He waited, frozen, for it to do something other than drape from his hands lifelessly. After a full minute had passed he gently set the suit back on the ground. He was convinced he had felt that click and less than two minutes later he was proven correct.

* * *

Bruce saw Terry glance at him in the rear view mirror for the third time in as many minutes. The boy had been watching him ever since he had told him their destination. Terry wasn't nervous, or even worried, Bruce could tell that by the way he was driving. It was like he had to keep making sure his passenger was still there.

"Why the clinic"? Terry finally asked after several more minutes of uneasy silence. Bruce considered the question. He found he trusted Terry even though he could not remember a reason to.

"I know Dr. Amy Mathews. I know she'll tell me the truth even if I won't like it." Terry nodded. Bruce watched his expression change in the rearview mirror as the boy's mind came to the logical conclusion.

"What's wrong?"

Again Bruce considered hiding the truth but decided against it. "Memory loss, maybe something more."

A flash of surprise crossed Terry's features before turning contemplative. Bruce could see the boy arguing with himself over something. Slowly he seemed to settle back into the driver's seat taking on a posture and expression that Bruce knew the boy had picked up from him. Terry was reviewing all his information and trying to figure out what was missing. Well, by the end of this meeting they would have more data, and not just from Dr. Mathews. Bruce considered that thought and realized the implications of it. Without intending to he had subconsciously included Terry in his plans. A second look and he decided the logic was sound, even if he did have to depend on someone other than himself. With his memory failing him he had found himself trusting his gut more. So far Terry had been up to the task, but what he was planning was something quite a bit more. If the boy would even be willing was questionable. Bruce looked at the boy again, and decided that the solution to that particular problem was the simple one.

"There is something I would like you to do while I'm with Dr. Mathews." Terry glanced at him again and made a questioning grunt. Clearly he was still distracted.

"I want you to steal a copy of my medical file while the doctor is distracted." There was more than a small part of Bruce that was amused By Terry's initial reaction. It was probably lucky they were already stopped at a light. The statement had shocked Terry out of his train of thought. He blinked several times completely ignoring the fact that the light was now green. Then, unconsciously, he shifted. Bruce could tell he wasn't aware of it but suddenly his center was lower, his back straighter. He shifted the car forward ignoring the annoyed honking from the surrounding vehicles. Terry's expression became darker, his eyes lighting up from within.

"Why?"

Bruce could tell he would do it, even if he hadn't said as much. The question was just a formality, but Terry wasn't done.

"Can't you just request a copy of the file? It is your file after all."

"I could if I wanted to wait three weeks for it."

Terry nodded. His eyes were fixed on the traffic now, no longer constantly glancing in his mirror. He pulled the car into the small lot behind the clinic. Coming around the car he opened Bruce's door and helped him out.

"It'll be encrypted." Terry's voice was low. It wasn't a whisper, but he knew from experience that the sound wouldn't carry. Bruce's only response was to pass Terry the mini-drive he had prepared. The motion was smooth as if this wasn't the first time the two of them had worked to fool the rest of the world. Bruce had to make a conscious effort to set the problem aside. He reminded himself that the evenings work should shed some light on it.

"Her office is in the south end of the building on the second floor. Give me five minutes before you come in." Bruce turned away from Terry who announced loudly that he would take a walk while Bruce was having his meeting. Thinking about it, Bruce did trust Terry to get his part done. Satisfied that the decision was made he entered the clinic.

The waiting room was loud, but not as crowded as it could have been. A mother with two young children took up several seats on the west wall. Two young women huddled together in seats by the door. An old man adjusted his hearing aid next to a man in his late twenties who was shivering, most likely from withdrawal. Another young man had just left through the door on the far wall, accompanied by an aid. There were several windows set into the wall behind him. The volunteer behind the front desk looked up and at him over her glasses and smiled politely.

"Hello. Can I help you?"

Her words pulled him out of his observations. He stepped forward turning on his charm.

"Yes, I have an appointment with Dr. Mathews."

"Of course." the woman relaxed turning to her computer. "Name?"

"Wayne, Bruce."

"Yes here it is." she suddenly seemed to realize what the name meant. She paused, blinking up at him before she finally realized she was staring. She blushed and turned back to her computer.

"Dr. Mathews is running a bit late. It'll be a few minutes. If you take a seat, I'll tell her you're here."

Bruce nodded and found a seat with his back to the wall. He kept up the false smile on the off chance anyone was paying attention. Five minutes passed and Terry burst through the doors at a half run. He had discarded his jacket and now wore a hat matching the volunteers, though where he had acquired it Bruce could only guess. He breezed past the secretary apologizing in a rush and saying he was late. The bewildered girl behind the desk started to say something but Terry was gone. Bruce grinned to himself and a few minutes later Dr. Mathews came to escort him into one of the examining rooms.

Note:

First I would like to thank scriviner who agreed to Beta for me and has already been Very helpful. As for the story I am sorry that this is all setup but the next few chapters will hopefully make up for it. I will even promise a section from Terry's POV, so review and help me make all this better.

:)


	7. Chapter 7

Terry breezed past the woman at the front desk. He walked with purpose and a distracted, rushed smile that gave the impression he was supposed to be there. It might not have worked at a bigger hospital (or at least he would have needed a better disguise then just a hat.) but this was a volunteer clinic. Interns, volunteers, doctors, patients, support staff, it all jumbled together into a vaguely organized mess. Terry slipped into the flow of people and no one bothered to ask the obvious question. Taking a roundabout route he made his way upstairs.

From what Terry could tell the second floor was a mix of offices, supply rooms and rooms for patents who needed to be monitored overnight but didn't require a transfer to a better facility. There were less people on the second floor and fewer of them were rushing around. Terry changed gears. Instead of confidence he now projected uncertainty. He made a big deal of reading the nameplates on the doors. His stride had been long now he shortened it, varying the length of his steps. It was less than a minute before a Man in his mid-twenties wearing scrubs asked if he needed help.

Terry took in the other's appearance with a quick glance, and selected one of his prepared lies. From the short undyed blond hair, incredibly clean fingernails, and expression of resignation he guessed the man was a nurse rather than just a volunteer. The name tag on his shirt read 'Doug H.'.

"Actually yes," Terry made a show of reading the tag even though he already knew what it said. "Doug. I'm looking for Dr. Mathew's office. I was supposed to meet with her about my internship but she's with a patent so they said I should wait in her office rather than disturb her since the guy she's with is someone important or something. Only I got a bit turned around." He trailed off at the end. The lie was specific and vague in the right areas, and it gave Doug a chance to help rather than telling him he was wrong. Doug bought it completely.

"Right, sure it's right down here." Doug nodded off down the hall. Terry followed him around two corners stopping at a plain door with a simple placard reading 'Dr. Amy Mathews' in a simple block font. No one bothered with Terry the whole way. He moved to open the door, thanking Doug warmly and praying it wasn't locked for some reason. It wasn't.

"Thanks a lot, I'll just wait here for her." Terry smiled at Doug and after a moment he left.

Entering the office Terry pulled the door closed behind him. The only light in the room came from the sleeping computer and the street light outside the small window. The room managed to be both simple and messy. The one shelf on the wall was stuffed to the brim with odds and ends that had no discernible pattern or theme. The small desk held the computer, a lamp, a clock, one of those drinking birds, a second hard drive, and more cords then would ever be necessary. This woman was living in the Stone Age. Hadn't she ever heard of wireless networking? Even the two chairs in the room were draped in coats. Terry turned peeking through the opaque glass set into the door. No one seemed to be near. He considered his options and decided to stick with the story he had.

He flipped the light switch with one hand locking the door with the other. To add to the lie he grabbed one of the pens from the desk and gamed it into the lock. It wouldn't be too hard to get the door open from his side but someone outside the office wouldn't be able to get the door open even with a key.

He woke up the computer with a few deft keystrokes, and plugged in the mini-drive when it beeped for a password. He hit the mute button on the keyboard in case it decided to make any more sounds. The progress bar on the mini-drive had stalled around 45%. It was probably having trouble with one of the networked systems.

Terry pulled out his phone. He typed "10 min to out" and hit send. The clock on the desk now read 6:12. Bruce had still been in the waiting room when Terry had darted through at 6:06. Since he had asked for directions he had managed to get to the office faster than estimated. The mini-drive flashed from red to green and the screen flashed up a page for Gotham City Medical. For a moment Terry wondered how the old man could hack into one of the most secure systems in the city, possibly the country, so easily. Except this was Bruce Wayne, Terry knew he could do practically anything, but how did he...

Terry found the file he was looking for and copied it in triplicate one to the mini-drive, the other two to his own and Bruce's private secure email. Then since he was in the system anyway he grabbed his own file as well, sending that to his own email only. Terry checked the time, 6:20; he was pulling it close. Hopefully the old man was still stalling. He had the mini-drive pull out of the system erasing it's signature as it went. 6:21. disengaging the drive he took an extra second to stuff it into his shoe just in case. He pulled the pen out of the lock pocketing it before flipping the light switch.

At 6:23 Terry slipped out of the office closing it behind him and once more switching to his 'I'm supposed to be here, just late' persona, this time with a contemplated scowl he had picked up from the old man. Bruce had turned scowling into an art form. At that thought he had to fight to keep the scowl rather than laughing.

He took the nearest stairs down, exiting out a fire door that he had noted before entering. It set off an alarm inside the building. He circled the building stopping at the car long enough to grab his jacket drop the hat and run a hand through his hair messing it up. He grabbed a pair of sunglasses just to be sure. He rounded the corner at a half run, sliding the sunglasses on to his head, and adapted a look of confusion. As people poured out of the front of the building he slouched bending his knees so he would look a good six inches shorter then he really was at any casual glance. If nothing else it would be hard for the Comish to get a solid description of him.

The crowd of people milled around in front of the building in an uneasy group as assistants helped those who needed it. Terry wondered through the crowd until he saw a familiar cane and found Bruce take his leave of a woman in her mid-30s. Bruce started back towards the car and a moment later terry was beside him.

"Was that really necessary?" the old man asked. Terry shrugged, and opened his door for him.

Matt could literally not believe what was happening. Getting ahold of the suit was one thing. It was amazingly cool but it was something that he had been able to see happening. There had been at least 4 different plots to steal it after all. But this was something he hadn't dared dream.

The bat mobile hovered two inches over the surface of the roof. It gleamed in the evening sun, casting a dark red sheen over Matt and the roof in general. It's sleek black curves were accentuated by the hooked fins that came to a vicious point. Matt had never seen the car up close before. Most of the time it tended to fade into the night becoming a terrible shadow in the city. It was a lot like it's owner that way.

Matt stuffed the suit back into Terry's bag without taking his eyes off the car. It was the single coolest thing he had ever seen. This was by far the coolest day of Matt's life. He reached forward and put a hand on the car's smooth surface. He was actually touching the bat mobile. Nothing could ever top that moment. Then it moved. Under his still gloved hand one of the black panels slid forward revealing an interior bathed in red light. For a moment Matt stood frozen, but once again it was too good an opportunity to pass up. He boosted himself up over the side and into the driver's seat of the single coolest car on the planet. He tossed Terry's bag into the space behind the seat and looked over the controls. Nothing was labeled of course but some things were just obvious. The two handles on either side of the seat were the throttles, there was nothing else they could be. Matt looked around and found a convenient switch that when pressed slid the top of the car closed. That one was obvious due to its placement.

Matt considered the other buttons, switches and touch screens. With the car in park everything was in standby mode; which was not at all helpful to someone who was unfamiliar with the car. Then again that was probably the point. For a moment Matt hesitated. This whole thing was probably a really bad idea, and if he didn't accidentally kill himself he'd end up in a mountain of trouble. He reached for the throttles with one thought ringing through his mind. It was worth it.

The moment the gloves touched the handles nano-pins built into the handles hooked into ports in the gloves clamping them into place and joining the two into one larger network. For a moment the gloves fully activated clinging to his skin. Red energy flashed up his arms as the systems in the car activated. Screens lit up showing 3-D maps of the city, graphs of several different things and at least two of the news channels. Dials lit up, their electronic needles pointing in a million directions, indicating things Matt could only guess. The dull black of the windshield lit up giving the sky and buildings beyond a slight red tint. At the same time the lights in the cabin dimmed to a dull background glow. Then, as quickly as the energy had come, the gloves went limp once more. The clamps disengaged letting Matt move his hands again, but even though the gloves had powered down the car hadn't. A screen by Matt's left hand that had showed a section of the city skyline shifted to show a road map.

Somewhere beneath him the engines revved. Matt could feel the vibrations through his seat. He glanced up from the console and noted that the car was now level with the top of the water tank. He griped the throttles even though the gloves were no longer hooked in. the nose of the car dipped as the car spun to the right. Then the car was pointed at out over the city skyline. It swept forward, increasing speed at a smooth rate until Matt knew they had to be going over 90. The cabin had pressurized at some point so he barely felt the speed at first. It took less than a minute for the car to enter the city proper.

Matt's excitement turned to fear as he realized the car was heading straight for the double towers of what he always thought of as the tuning fork building. He tried the throttles, pushing and pulling them without getting any response. A dial on the dash now showed his speed to be 120 MPH and growing. In desperation Matt started pressing every button within reach. Most of them didn't react but apparently at least one of them still worked. The car swerved up and to the left performing something like a barrel roll before leveling out heading in a general easterly direction. Matt had to pick himself up from where the roll had tossed him into the foot well. Halfway back into the chair the car swerved again this time going into a shallow dive heading north-east. Matt was thrown head first into his seat. He managed to right himself and immediately reached for the harness.

When he was safely pinned to the chair he took stock of where he was. The car was now following west 15th at the slightly slower speed of 75 MPH. Matt tried the throttles again to no effect. After another minute the car slid to a stop under the skytram at the corner of 15th and Grant. With the long shadows of evening it would be almost impossible to see the car even if it wasn't in stealth mode. Matt looked back at the controls, his grin coming back.

"OK, this is unbearably cool!"

"Voice print not recognized. Present ID." the electronic voice seemed to come from all around him.

"You can hear me? Wait, you can talk?"

"Voice print not recognized. Present ID."

"Huh, you know for batman's car, you're not a very sophisticated AI."

"Final warning, voice print not recognized, present ID." to accentuate the threat the console went dark. Most of the switches simply turned off, while others started glowing a threatening dark red.

"Ok I get it, ID GothamBat03, password: Warren 10-4 10-8." Matt waited; terrified that the stolen ID wouldn't work even though he knew beyond a doubt it was right. After a full minute and a half the console brightened and the car spoke once more.

"Auto pilot engaged, select destination."

So that was it. Matt considered his options. At this point there was no way he wasn't going to be found out. His father had had a saying 'if you're already in over your head it doesn't matter how deep the water is.'

"Take me to the bat-cave."

Beneath him the engine revved.

Bruce watched Dr. Mathews as he described his symptoms. He noted how she bit slightly at her lower lip, how she spun her pen between her thumb and index finger, how the creases in her forehead shifted. Along with the memory loss he described a number of reflexes, habits he had noted that didn't have a cause. Then there were the times he found himself looking out over his city from the big bay windows of the study or staring at the old grandfather clock even when he knew the time. He seemed to have too much time on his hands, as if he was used to having more work to do even though most things basically took care of themselves. Throughout his story the doctor watched him, seemingly not wanting to interrupt. As Bruce was telling her about his memories of his sons his phone went off. Bruce glanced at it, then his watch and continued. Finally, his story finished, he sat back and watched as she chose her words.

"Mr. Wayne, Bruce. I realize you probably don't want to hear this but you asked me to be frank. Everything you've described seems to point to mid-stage Alzheimer's. Since Alzheimer's is different for every person I can't be sure without a brain scan but given the number of memories you seem to have lost." She paused again biting at her lip. "The short term memories could be explained by a recent trauma, but there doesn't seem to be anything like that in your file. And again that would not account for the long term memories. Given that irritability, aggression and withdrawal are also common symptoms, well, this might have been going on for a while. It could be that you've only just become aware of it. On the other hand there might be something environmental that triggered your realization. I would like to schedule an MRI to discover the extent of the damage. From there we can decide on the best treatment."

"Is Alzheimer's the only explanation?" the question had been rhetorical, just something to get his brain working but she answered it none the less.

"Nothing is ever 100%, but from the evidence it seems the most likely."

Bruce wasn't convinced. Until now his mind had been his fortress. For those defenses to fail without him noticing wasn't possible, was it? He refused to accept that he simply hadn't noticed. That was why Terry was upstairs. He checked his watch: 6:17. Terry had asked for ten minutes, but Bruce would get him more than that. Something always went wrong; someone had to be prepared.

"What would you recommend?" Bruce asked the question that the doctor was expecting. He didn't plan to go along with whatever treatment she recommended. As far as he was concerned none of it would work in any case. He felt himself fall into a role as failure as the back of his hand. He was taking in information and organizing it as if he had done it a million times.

In the middle of an explanation of memory reconditioning a fire alarm rang. Dr. Mathews cursed under her breath. Bruce stood, and moved to the door holding it open for her. She thanked him absently, already striding ahead and taking charge. Bruce mingled with the crowd, making his way out to the parking lot. Half way to the car Terry caught up with him, once more dressed and acting like himself.

"Was that really necessary?"

Terry reached the car first pulling open the door. Bruce noted the smug smile as he shrugged. He didn't bother asking the second question. There was no question that the boy was had been successful. Terry started the car and pulled out onto the street.

Note:

Hi all. First of thanks again to scriviner my wonderful Beta.

Wow so, this is the longest chapter yet. Can you tell i'm having fun. :) the next chapter will be up before too long with the coolness of the bat-cave. Oh here's something, i've got the next few chapters planned out but beyond that I don't have anything planned yet. If you have ideas send them my way.

Also if any of you are fans of the blue beetle you should go check out my other story loop 62. For now it's a one shot, but I would love to get some feedback, and if enough people like it I may expand it. :)

Please Review!


	8. Chapter 8

The drive back to the manor was quiet. Terry was focused on the road even though there was less traffic now then there had been. Bruce had drawn back into himself. He refused to make any more speculations until he looked at the data Terry had collected. In the meantime he was going over the past few days in his mind. If he did have Alzheimer's then his short term memory should have been one of the first things to go. As far as he could tell that wasn't the case. He could remember his routine clearly for the past three days. He could remember conversations, details of plans he had made, even trivial things like what he had had for breakfast. The part of his mind still in the present noted Terry's cell phone ringing. The boy pushed it into a spot on the dash and spoke.

"Hey."

"Terry? I just wanted to check in with you. I left some creds so you and Matt could order a pizza or something." Terry's mother sounded distracted.

"Slag it. Mr. Wayne called me in tonight."

"Terry, This class is important for my work. You said you had a clear schedule."

"I know, Mom. Listen I'll call Max and ask her to sit with him." As he spoke Terry pulled the car into a side street and parked; sending an apologetic look at Bruce in the rearview mirror. "He was home when I left an hour ago. He's probably just watching TV or something.

His mother's sigh was audible even over the phone. "Terry, I am trusting you to take care of this. Don't let me down." the last word was left unspoken 'again'.

Bruce looked out his window as Terry picked the phone out of the dock in the dash and held down the number for Max's speed-dial. Bruce searched the shadows, unconsciously looking for anything that didn't belong. His eyes saw the familiar shape before his mind caught up and firmly insisted that he had never seen the vehicle before. Without taking his eyes off the sleek black car he opened his door and stepped into the Gotham night. The car was idling under the skytram. Its thrusters were giving off just enough power to stay airborne. A pressure seemed to rise behind Bruce's Eyes, pushing forward, wanting to be acknowledged, recognized. Bruce didn't try to hold it back, but even so some force kept the pressure at bay.

"What is that?" Terry was standing beside him. His voice was low, the tone somewhere between awe and frustration.

"I don't know." Bruce answered not voicing the thought that was screaming through his mind. I can't remember!

The car shifted, the thrusters pulsing a deep angry red. Turning, the car dipped slightly before racing off towards the west hills. The tension slowly leached out of the air. Terry seemed to realize that Max was still on the other end of his phone. He turned back to that conversation, brushing off his lapse and turning the conversation back in the direction he wanted it to go. Bruce tuned it out, silently turning to get back in the car. He now had a new direction to turn his thoughts. How was the mysterious black car was connected to the current mystery and was the connection good or bad.

* * *

Knowing he was on autopilot with a destination rather than flying randomly made the trip to the cave fun. The car was taking a direct route, deviating only when it had to avoid buildings or one of the floating platforms. Matt fixed the feel of it into his mind, reveling in every moment. Then the vehicle descended and suddenly the dark outside wasn't the dark of Gotham sky but the true dark of a cave. The car came to a smooth stop, the interior slowly dimming as no further commands were issued. Matt reached forward and pressed the switch to open the top of the car. It slid open with a small hiss of released air as the pressure normalized.

The cave was dark, except for a ring of base lights that ran the perimeter of the landing pad. Matt boosted himself up and slid down the side of the car. He landed on the stone floor; his footsteps causing echoes off the distant walls, setting off a storm of high pitched squeaking. Matt couldn't see beyond the floor lights but he took a few steps forward anyway. It would be a shame to come all this way only to pack up and go home before he got to see anything cool. After two steps he seeped to cross a threshold. The floor was suddenly illuminated as base lighting set into the floor lit up the path in front of him. The path raced away and up before suddenly splitting. The two paths of light turned at right angles to ring a second platform where another vehicle sat.

A bank of flood lights switched on and suddenly Matt could see the other vehicle. He blinked as his eyes adjusted. It was a rocket; or at least that was the closest thing Matt could think of to compare it to. The hull was a dark mirrored substance that reflected light rather than just sucking it in like the car. The silver sheen played over massive thrusters and a streamlined form managed to mostly conceal the weapons barrels.

Before Matt could approach the rocket a second bank of floodlights went on beyond it and slightly to the right. Matt had only a moment to admire the state of the art teleportation platform before another bank of floodlights came on. This time it was directly to Matt's right and it wasn't just one thing that was illuminated.

The computer was the first thing to draw Matt's eye. It was huge, with at least a dozen separate fully adjustable monitors surrounding the big view screen. There were more buttons then even the Batmobile could boast. As he watched the main screen came to life showing the well-known symbol in red on a black field. Then the light came up on the costume case, drawing Matt's eye. The six colorful uniforms stood under the white light like sentries guarding their castle.

Matt moved forward in a trance. He crossed the large cavern in what seemed like moments to stand before the line of cases. He knew all their names. He had been spending every waking moment thinking about their world for months now; there was no way he wouldn't know. To the far left, Batman, the costume that had made him famous as a member of the justice league. The metal of the belt was dull but still managed to catch the light. Beside it stood one of the Robin costumes, though Matt wasn't well versed enough to know which one or who had worn it. This version was all red and black and yellow without the green highlights that some of them had had. This particular costume also boasted pants. How any of the Robins had managed to run around rooftops in a leotard, Matt couldn't fathom. Then came the Batgirl costume, it's yellow shining like spun gold while the black sucked in light, making it hard to see even under spotlights. Then Red Robin with the circle emblem on his chest and the red lines running down the outside of the arms. The black cape rapped around the shoulders falling to just below the waist. Then there was Nightwing, the full body cat suit marked out in black and blue, with barely enough mask to hide anything. On the far right, the last figure wore Terry's costume, pure black with the red bat splashed across the chest. That costume however was slightly taller, broader in the shoulder. It had been designed to be used by a man with more muscle. Matt reached up, pressing his hands to the glass. He had forgotten that he was still wearing the gloves. That observation seemed to snap him out of it. These weren't mythic figures standing guard, they were just costumes.

Then it struck him. He was in the batcave. He was actually there, in the single coolest place on earth; well, to him at least. And no one knew it. Oh, he would be found out eventually but for the moment he was free to do as he pleased. Two ideas immediately presented themselves.

The first was the urge to explore. The trophy cases off to his left were still in shadow, their lights having failed to go on for some reason. Still, he could make out the shape of the giant penny, and something farther back that might have been a dinosaur.

Then Matt's practical side took over shelving the impulse for the moment. He turned, wearing a wicked grin, to the computer. Sliding up to it, he fell into the only chair and stretched his hands out over the keys. Directly in front of him was a standard keyboard, but beyond that were arrays of controls that seemed to service the extra systems hooked into the supercomputer. He didn't touch them, just in case. With his first touch the computer awoke presenting a blank screen with a login request. Matt frowned at that. He had Terry's login of course but for what he had planned an administrator login would be best and he doubted Terry's qualified. Could he possibly hack the old man's system? He wasn't bad when it came to hacking, but he was still only 12 not to mention the fact that he didn't have any specialized equipment. He didn't even have his phone, having forgotten it back at the apartment. He set the chair spinning slowly as he tried to come up with an answer. Then he saw the costumes again as he spun and a realization came to him in a flash. He didn't need any equipment, everything he could possibly need was right there in the cave.

He hoped out of the chair again and ran over to the costumes, pulling open the door to the Robin case. Matt had been planning to hack into the bat computer and set up a login for himself. If he did it right he would have access to all the files without anyone realizing it. It would be his own little back door. He would still have to use his brother's login to find out what they were working on but he could have lived with that. Now though, he had a better idea. He unclipped the belt from the robin costume and wrapped it around his own waist. It gave him no small bit of pleasure to find it fit without any adjustment. After a minute of investigating how it worked and what the pouches held he grabbed the gloves as well. He switched them for the ones he was wearing as he walked back to the computer and tossed the old ones over beside the keyboard.

The old robin costume was still operational and it plugged into the computer without any problems. After that it only took a few keystrokes to log into the computer as Robin. The account was still in place even after all these years. Now Matt called it into service again. Best part, it had full access to all files. Just in case, he changed the login name and password whimsically naming himself Red 05. He was the fifth Robin after all, even if it was going to be his secret. He set up remote access and then began to explore the system. The file system was archaic, with a twisted kind of logic that was based on no system Matt recognized. When the alarm when off he was more than half convinced he had tripped something, but no.

A green face appeared in the corner of the screen. Words scrolled along the bottom of the monitor; Oracle Protocol triggered threat level 4. Matt took a chance and clicked on the icon. The screen immediately changed, spiting into four parts. What he had been working on was pushed into the upper right corner of the screen. Below it, a map of the city appeared, centered on the downtown shopping district. A location was marked out in red. The left half of the screen was filled by an out of focus video feed of what appeared to be Mad Stan on another rampage, and an audio visualizer of the police band.

Matt had fantasized about being Robin a couple of times. What kid growing up in Gotham didn't? But it had always been just that, a fantasy. Now here he stood, wearing the belt, in front of the batcomputer, with the whole thing right at his fingertips. Suddenly it all seemed a lot more real. Suddenly there was a legacy and a duty to uphold, and no Batman around to save the day. Matt knew it had all been too good to be true.

Note:

Visuals for the costumes: Batman from Justice League Unlimited, Robin from Young Justice, Red Robin from the comic Red Robin 19. The others are the same as shown in the show.

Yes I decided to add Red Robin.

I don't think I've said it elsewhere but this story takes place before Return of the Joker. And for the sake of my continuity I'm ignoring the Batman Beyond comics, though I might reference the regular Batman comics universe. I also plan to reference Justice League and the old Batman and Superman animated series so keep your eyes out.

Also to answer an earlier question, in my version of this world the suits will adapt to the person wearing them but only to a certain extent. Also the suit will only really work for the person it was made for, that is, there will be glitches and other problems for anyone else. After Terry officially became the new Batman they built a new suit for him. The two suits have the same programing and other then being made for two different people are the same.

Also Yay for my Amazing Beta scriviner who got this back to me in less then 12 hours O.O wow.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

Matt flopped back into the chair. Up until now it had been one big dream; a dare to see how far he would or could go. Now he couldn't act except to stare at the screen in front of him. The video flickered as an explosion jolted the camera the Oracle protocol had hacked into. Over the police band Commissioner Gordon was barking out orders. The map of the area adjusted its self and added the inbound cop cars and displaying the different ETAs. Matt just watched.

He was afraid. He should be going out there and helping. If he was a real Robin he would find a way. Hack the Batmobile somehow and go out to stop Mad Stan. The only problem, he still couldn't move.

It wasn't that Mad Stan was overly frightening. He wasn't like Stalker who still crept through Matts nightmares even now and then even over a year later. Matt knew that he was just some crazy guy. A crazy guy with a whole lot of explosives. A crazy guy who managed to hurt Terry almost every time they confronted each other. He wasn't like the Joker or Scarecrow from the old days, more like Bane or Killer Croc. Not exactly smart, but dangerous because no matter how many guns you brought to the party you were always outmatched.

Mad Stan threw a grenade just as the first cop car arrived. The pavement just in front of the front bumper went up in a cloud sending the car flying into what might have become a roll if it hadn't hit a building. The second car arrived in time to drag the unconscious passengers from the crash. The two conscious cops huddled behind their own car with their unconscious companions as Mad Stan threatened them with another grenade. The computer alerted Matt to the presence of three hostages inside the building. It wasn't that Mad Stan was really threatening them but there was no way for them to get out. When Matt didn't respond to the computer's promptings the screens observing Mad stan grayed out. The green face appeared in the lower part of the screen once more.

"Continue observation?"

Matt blinked, "umm yes, continue observation."

"Voice print not recognized."

"Oh not this again. Add voice print to system; authorization Red 05." he waited, wondering if he needed to say his password as well or if being logged in was enough. Apparently it was since the screens shifted again. Matt's original search of the system was shunted over to one of the axillary screens, as was the police band and the map. The main screen split into six different viewpoints, the original camera, plus three more from inside the building and two on the hostages.

The interruption had brought Matt back to his senses. He needed to be smart, use his mind rather than just reacting. The simple fact was that he would only be a liability it that situation. Normally Batman was the one to handle Mad Stan but only because he could get the job done faster and with fewer people hurt then the police. Without Batman it would just take longer.

A snippet of conversation from the police band caught his attention. He turned it up in time to hear Gordon say "- got the building clear, and I want that perimeter up two minutes ago."

Past tense? Matt looked up at the screens confirming that the hostages were still there. The building was definitely not clear. His mind began racing. What were the odds that the people still inside would make it through this if the police weren't aware of them? Considering the amount of explosives involved he figured it was somewhere in the 'not good' area.

"I need to tell the commissioner." his voice was thin, his heartbeat and breath were beginning to speed up again as a fresh wave of adrenalin hit his system.

"Opening channel to police band." the computer beeped at him. Matt looked up at the screen, but before he could decide to cancel the order the connection was made.

"Hendrixs what's your status?" Commissioner Barbra Gordon's voice was suddenly very loud. "Hendrix? Slag it, who is this? You are transmitting on a police frequency. That's a federal crime-"

"Commissioner Gordon." he cut her off before she could threaten to lock him up. "There are still three people in that building. Two of them are- "

This time it was her turn to cut him off. "Who is this?" her voice was steel. He gulped, and then hoped she hadn't heard it.

"Robin." he had spoken louder then maybe necessary but because there was only one word to his response his voice hadn't had time to shake.

"That some kind of code name? Unless you have a government authorization code stop wasting my time." she turned away from her radio. Matt could still hear her as she shouted orders in the background.

"Terminate connection." he said limply.

She hadn't listened. No, it was more than that. She hadn't known who Robin was. It was true that there hadn't been an active Robin in ages but still... Everyone in Gotham knew the Batman legend, and it clearly told who Robin was. This went beyond her just knowing or not knowing the secret. A thought struck him, could she be lying?

His eyes came back up to the screen and he put the puzzle aside for the moment. Those people were still in trouble. There were two on the second floor, and one on the fourth. The buildings security had shut down the elevators and closed the fire doors in response to the first explosions. The man on the fourth floor had tried to get to the stairs. He seemed to be a guard or at least he had a set of keys. It was a good idea but he hadn't managed to get far with the security going onto overdrive and the multiple explosions compromising the system. The other two looked like janitors. One male, one female each caught in their respective bathrooms when the first explosions hit. A wall partition had collapsed blocking the doorway to one and wedging the cleaning cart in front of the door of the other. Matt couldn't actually see them since there were no camera's in the bathrooms but somehow the computer had managed to pull up an incredibly detailed inferred feed. One of them wasn't moving.

Time was a big factor. The longer Mad Stan ranted the more unstable he got. If the police let it go on too long he would probably take down the whole building. Matt ran through the facts: three people, two floors, no police assistance, one person injured possibly dead, no Batman. Reluctantly he added one more fact to the list: one untrained, mostly useless, Robin. And another factor, time. He had to get Gordon to listen.

"Computer, connect me to Gordon again." the volume rose, the police band once more coming to the front. This time he didn't let her get started. "Commissioner, there are three civilians in that building. One of them is at the very least, unconscious." He shot off what he knew in short fast sentences, giving her no room to interrupt. Finally he ran out of things to say and fell silent.

"Listen kid. I don't know how you got on this frequency, but this isn't a joke. There are lives at stake so stop fooling around and let me do my job or I will arrest you for obstruction." she meant it.

Matt cut the connection. Ironic that she had mentioned all the lives at stake and didn't care about getting to the people inside. Matt's nervous fear started shifting towards annoyance. It was like when one of his teachers got angry at him for not doing the proper assignment when he was doing Geometry, instead of factors, or writing essays on old Gotham economics, rather than 'what I did last summer'. Completely pointless. How could anyone let alone a cop ignore information about people in trouble? And she wasn't just any other cop. If he had come up to her on the street and given her the exact same information she would have believed him. If that's what it took to get through to her then that's what he would have to do.

That thought surprised him, but he liked it. It fed the annoyance and anger that were still pushing for action, but it was also rational. It was something he could do rather than just sit there.

It wasn't that he didn't like watching, he had certainly done enough observing in the past few months, but that was when actions were already being taken. The city was used to having a hero. Matt looked over at the rest of the Robin uniform, still in its case. He had told Gordon that he was Robin; it wouldn't be right to show up without a costume.

"Computer, can the car be programed to take me to where Mad Stan is?"

"Destination is within autopilot parameters."

There was nothing stopping him. If he had the courage he could jump down the rabbit hole, or maybe a lion's den was a better metaphor. In either case it was his choice. That meant there wasn't really any choice. It wasn't that he wasn't afraid. He would just never be able to look his brother in the eye again if he knowingly ran from the danger Terry faced every day, or night as the case may be. He retrieved the rest of the costume. He wouldn't take any risks. He would just make sure those people got to safety.

"Right," his inner voice said skeptically. "What could possibly go wrong?"

* * *

Bruce lowered himself into the chair behind his desk. Terry sat down on the couch and switched on the screen built into the coffee table, he set it to mirror everything that Bruce was doing. Bruce plugged in the mini-drive and started sorting the information.

"So, what did she say was wrong with you?" Terry didn't look up as he asked his question, just kept watching the screen on the table.

"Alzheimer's"

Terry's expression became hard to read. "And what do you think?"

Bruce pulled up several files from his stay in the hospital several months ago. The incident was hazy but he could remember enough to know they had scanned him for potential brain damage. He highlighted several areas of his brain.

"Notice anything?"

Terry studied the files. After a minute he shook his head.

"If I had Alzheimer's these would be the areas damaged. There should be large sections of dead cells if I'm as far along as Dr. Mathews says."

Terry just nodded still studying the brain scan. He spun it around to view it from different angles and enlarged sections get a better look. Bruce started looking through some of the other recent files looking for anything odd. The number of latent toxins in his system surprised him, as did the amount of scar tissue in his back. He had been quite active when he had been younger but showed more damage than could ever be attributed to rock climbing and bace jumping.

"Whatever is wrong, it wasn't there 8 months ago." Terry said leaning back, and clearing the display in front of him. Bruce wasn't so sure any more. Given the state of his body as a whole it was amazing he was still alive at all.

Authors note:

OK, so this chapter is a bit shorter the the others. I blame school. In fact there may be a bigger break before the next few chapters as well. In addition to school this part of the story has decided to change without informing me so there will have to be a bit of extra plotting for the next few chapters. One final thing of note: the number of sections for the next few chapters may shift. Hopefully it will all continue to make sense. :)


	10. Chapter 10

Matt turned on the autopilot, told the car where to go, and then ignored it. Instead he held up the costume he had hurriedly pulled off the manikin in the case. It consisted of a pair of black tights, an undershirt, a red vest with the familiar logo on the left breast, a yellow and black cape, gloves, shoes that didn't fit and a mask. Matt tossed the shoes into the foot well and striped. The tights and undershirt went on first. Both seemed to be made of millions of tiny scales that fit together like snakeskin, both flexible and protective. They were light, heavier then Matt had expected but not by much and he quickly adjusted to the weight. The vest came next along with the cup. Matt suddenly understood why half the old costumes looked like they had their underwear outside the pants. The vest was armored. Matt had expected that; what he hadn't expected were the electronics. Pressure pads took note of the pulse at the base of his neck. A pair of censors took note of his breathing. Then there was the nest of censors behind the Robin emblem. Overall it wasn't nearly as sophisticated as Terry's suit, but the similarities comforted him in a strange way. The belt, mask and gloves were already familiar and again strangely comforting. The cape wasn't, it slid around his shoulders and neck like a noose. There was some kind of mettle built into the collar, probably to protect his neck. Matt undid the clasps in the collar and bent the metal outward so he could breath. Whoever had worn the costume last had apparently had a smaller neck; either that or they had learned not the breath. Before he could make any further alterations he arrived.

The bat-mobile landed on the roof. Matt hadn't expected that. He had thought it would hover over the building or land in an ally or maybe a neighboring roof. That way Matt could have assessed the situation and found the best way to get to Gordon. Instead Matt was forced to creep to the edge of the building to get a look at the situation.

Gordon was out in front of the police barriers. She was wearing the same riot gear as the rest of her people minus the helmet and riot shied. Matt could hear her shouting through the bullhorn she held even from eighteen stories up. Mad Stan had retreated into the lobby of the building and was throwing grenades at anything that came too close to the doors. As Matt watched Gordon distracted Mad Stan long enough for several members of her team to creep up to the doors outside his line of sight. Mad Stan shouted something and Gordon raised the bullhorn again. Matt leaned forward over the edge of the building to better see the strike team. There were four of them each with either a stun rifle or an EMWave gun. They had made it to the door without being seen. Now three of them pressed their backs up against the wall beside the door while the last knelt down. From his vantage point Matt couldn't see what they were doing.

Mad Stan's next Grenade took out one of the supports for the front of the building.

Leaning over the railing as he was Matt was caught completely off guard. His weight tipped, going over the edge. His hand clamped down reflexively, but it was a bad angle. His head came down, his feet flipped over him and all of a sudden the weight of his whole body was on his shoulders. Matt cried out. The sudden pain and jerk of his already considerable momentum tore his fingers from the ledge. The momentary stop had been enough that when Matt blinked the pain away he found himself falling roughly upright. The chemicals that had been flooding his system all night seemed to reach a peak. His hands were at his belt before any plan could have possibly been formed. They found the grapple and ripped it free of its pouch with a strength that would have been impossible if he wasn't scarred out of his wits.

The device went off in his hands, sending the hook shooting into the wall of the building, which was passing by very quickly less than five feet away. The cable began to play out at an alarming speed, and Matt slapped at the device to stop it. The cord didn't stop playing out but it did slow down. The sudden change in speed jerked at Matt nearly tearing out his arms as he clamped onto the grapple. The change in speeds also sent him in an ark towards the wall of the building. Matt had just enough time to pull up his legs; reflexively flinching away from what was sure to be a painful collision. If it had blinked it would have been but as it was his eyes were practically glued open. Because of this he was facing the wall and so his feet were the first things to connect with it. He jerked; a purely reflexive motion but it bounced him off the wall in an ark. Matt found himself oddly reminded of the swings at his old school, and with a reference fell into the familiar movements. His legs were fully extended as he arced back towards the wall, his hands above his head still holding the grapple.

He hit the window and the world exploded around him. The initial sound nearly deafened him, and for several minutes he could barely hear anything. Around him the glass spun in gaged rainbows, reflecting the world back in a million pieces of shattered mirror and diamond dust. Then Matt hit the floor, and the impact tore his hands from the grapple. He slid across the polished tiles until he hit something and finally came to a stop. He looked up and found that the something he had crashed into was the wall outside the shopping center's small theater. A poster above him advertised an action movie called "Dive". For some reason Matt found this extremely funny. Nearly hysterical giggles bubbled up until he was laughing outright.

"You ok?"

Matt snapped his mouth shut. He sat up and rolled forward until he was kneeling in a crouch. The man who had spoken was twenty feet away. The buildings power was down but Matt could see well enough with the emergency lights and the light from outside that came in through the broken window. Matt took stock of the man identifying him as the man who had been trapped on the fourth floor when the building went into lockdown. He was of average height and looked to be over 50 though Matt wasn't very good at guessing ages. He was slightly overweight, but not enough to have much of a gut. His uniform proclaimed him to be Mall security. He held a large heavy flashlight in one hand; it's beam illuminating the floor between them. The man was staring.

"I heard the glass." the man said. "I thought..." he blinked several times as if trying to restart his brain. "You're Robin." he finally said as if stating the obvious would make his situation make sense.

Matt slid to his feet in one smooth movement letting the cape flow forward to hide his hands in case he needed something from the belt.

"That's right." Matt couldn't stop a small grin from creeping into his words.

"God." the guard let out a bark of laughter. "You know I've been working security for 45 years. I thought I'd meet one of you lot in the first two weeks, but it never happened. Now here you are. Are you sure you're not just some lost kid?"

At that Matt did smile. "I'm sure."

Another Explosion rocked the building and the guard cursed under his breath as he clutched at the wall to stay standing. Matt bent his knees and let his hips keep him upright as the floor rolled. He turned back to the man when the floor finally settled. The man was looking at him with a calm expectant expression. It struck home just how powerful the symbol he was wearing could be. Batman was beyond amazing but Robin too had power in the mind of the people. And not just kids either judging by the man's willingness to follow his lead.

"What's your name?"

"Dan Bruning"

Robin grinned up at the man. "Well Dan, I'm recruiting you to help me save the day. Try to keep up." He passed the man without looking up at him, letting a knowing smile play over his face. A gust of wind caught his cape at just the right moment to billow it out behind him. It may have been an act but it was definitely impressive as hell.

* * *

Gordon lifted her arm when she saw the grenade. It rocked the whole building and the shockwave sent her stumbling back a step. That was how she happened to be looking up and caught the flash of yellow come over the edge of the roof. Her first thought was that someone had thrown something off the building. The evening was already growing dark and the mostly black costume blended in with the darkening sky. Then the figure managed to turn so that he was falling mostly upright. The cape swept out from his shoulders like a flag and the yellow lining caught the light from the streetlamps below. Gordon noted that the figure was strangely small and the realization that it was a child falling towards her made her start calculating angles. Where would he land? Was anyone close enough to the spot to catch him? Then she saw the rope. He had hooked it into the building somehow and let it trail out behind him slowing his fall. He was facing the building now. In one movement he kicked off from the wall and used the arc from the rope to translate all his downward momentum into a single point. The building codes for this part of town dictated that all windows be reinforced, but that didn't stop the boy from crashing through into the fourth floor. Glass rained down in a cloud less than ten feet from the door. She noted that none of her men had been hit then looked up again. After a moment she saw the rope swing free but the boy had vanished.

She didn't know whether to be glad that he hadn't spattered on the pavement or frustrated that she now had to worry about someone being in the building.

Setting that problem aside for the moment, she turned back to Mad Stan. The whole incident had taken maybe thirty seconds. Even the broken glass could have been attributed to his grenade. If the boy wasn't dead she wasn't going to draw attention to him. "Why the grenade Stan? I thought we were having a pleasant conversation." She didn't bother with the horn this time.

"Conversation! You're just another fool they've hooked with flashy advertisements and 29.99, buy one get one half off limited time offers! Just another cog in the mass-produced machine labor industry! It's a joke, all of it!"

Gordon tuned him out. Her team was back in position after the last grenade and ready to move. She met the eyes of the team leader, Sargent Morgen. He nodded to her and held up a fist for the benefit of his team. He held up four fingers and counted down silently.

At zero he spun around the doorway at waist height the EMWave-7 making a soft thump sound as he fired the charges in an arc around Mad Stan. At the same time his partner Togashi came around the door above him, firing over Morgen's shoulder. On the other side of the door Nix had rolled a smoke grenade into the building, obscuring everyone's line of fire after the first 45 seconds. Morgen and Togashi withdrew and the last man stepped forward. Detective Toren was one of the department's best marksmen. Currently he was holding a HN-277 short range trank rifle, or as the boys called it: the Sleep gun. He had the department's latest toy as well, an inferred auto-targeting visor mask combo that would let him see strait through the smoke grenade and still have enough processing power to record everything in high-def. and play a game of solitaire on the side. He fired one shot as he came through the door and another as he sidestepped so he wasn't a target in the doorway. Gordon heard his third shot a second before the bombs went off and everything went to hell.

Authors Note:

I found the cure for writers block: through your character off a building. Honestly I tried three different ideas but could never get started until I came up with this. And then Gordon came along and said "hay what about my team" so I said OK I'll write some more cool action stuff.

Can you tell I liked this chapter? And it came out a lot faster than I thought it would too. The next few chapters should be more actiony goodness though I won't promise anything since this is making its self-up as it goes along at this point. :D

As always thanks go out to Scriviner who has been a wonderful Beta, oh and one more thing; i've drawn a couple pictures of Matt they are on my deviantart account and there are links straight there from my profile. :) as always please review.


	11. Chapter 11

Matt headed for the center of the building. He didn't know the place well but he had been there before and there was one thing that all visitors remembered. The center of the building was hollow. The ceiling was glass and the railings were all mirrored so that the natural light would filter down all 18 floors, ending in rainbow shimmers at the bottom. Art pieces that looked like crystal birds were hung in the open air between floors 7, and 14 further breaking the light. During the day it was a splendid sight and the building was generally known as the rainbow mall because of it. At night the mirrors seemed to cast back only red light giving the place a sullen even angry feeling. Matt caught hold of the fourth floor railing and decided to not lean over it as he looked down to the ground floor. Almost directly below him was the central circle; a slightly raised platform on the first floor decorated with a map of the globe in copper inlay. The circle was generally used for special events like the holiday hall in December or any big promotions the mall was playing host to. Tonight it was empty except for Mad Stan.

Stan had wrapped det. cord around all the pillars on the edges of the first floor lobby with all the ends leading to a knot in the center of the platform. With one move Mad Stan could take out the entire building.

Matt's mind started running scenarios and a moment later started panicking. Those pillars ran from floor to ceiling, taking them out would make the whole place collapse inwards. Even worse if Stan had any of the other supports rigged as well he could possibly aim the building to fall in the direction he wanted. It could take out any of the nearby buildings, or, a chilling thought, the police force who were currently amassed out front. Matt had to stop himself from following that line of thought any farther

"Robin?" Dan had come up to stand beside him, and was looking between him and the space three floors down.

Matt nodded absently. His mind switched gears. He was still thinking as Matt when he needed to be thinking as Robin. It was like how he could always tell when his brother was being Batman, even if he wasn't in costume. He made a mental effort. As he did he straightened his shoulders and shifted so he could feel the weight of the costume on his skin. Robin wouldn't be afraid. Robin would be figuring out a way to make sure it didn't happen.

"I saw him putting all the cords up." Dan was speaking in a low voice. He had one hand on the railing and was watching the ground floor as if it was some dangerous animal. "It was my turn for rounds. There are three of us normally, we take it in turns. I heard them over the radio, so I came and took a look." he nodded over the edge. "They headed towards the back then there was an explosion." his voice cut off as Stan came into view below them.

Robin reached up slowly and took hold of Dan's arm. Without turning or even taking his eyes off Stan he led the other away from the edge and back into the shadows. Mad Stan was talking to himself. The space warped it until it seemed to be more of an animal sound then anything that could be considered speech. Matt found his back pressing against a wall and stopped. He let go of Dan's arm and realized his hands were shaking. He clenched them into fists and pulled them back under his cape.

Dan swallowed, liked his lips and spoke in a quiet voice. "Don't know what he's doing down there, honestly, I'd rather not find out."

Robin took a silent breath. "Elevators are out?" his question came out in a low rasp but at least his voice wasn't shaking.

Dan nodded "Emergency power should have kicked in but."

"Emergency stairs?"

"Same."

"You don't have power to the stairs?"

"They're kept locked so no one messes around in the stairwells. The system should have kicked them over but they're on the same grid as the elevators. There's the front stairs but they're all in sight of the lobby."

Robin shook his head. "I can get the back stairs open; just show me where they are."

* * *

Gordon saw the blast in time to raise an arm before she was hit with a wave of debris. The world shrank to a ringing field of pain. Old training kicked in and she pushed her way back to the real world. There was an arm under her, supporting her. People around her moving in ways her mind still refused to recognize. She thought they may be shouting but all she could hear was a ringing that didn't seem to have a place on the scale.

"I'm all right." she said, or thought she said.

She was sitting somehow and someone was looking at her with some kind of light in her eyes. She pushed them away and made another effort to realign her senses with the rest of the world.

"I'm all right." this time she could hear the words thought they still sounded a bit too distant. "What happened? Report!" at some point she had been moved back behind the line. A field medic rolled his eyes in annoyance and grabbed a passing rookie.

"Fill her in but make sure she doesn't move. You're her legs, got it?"

The rookie nodded, "Yes sir."

The medic gave her a glare, which she ignored, and then moved on to the next person who needed him.

"Well?" she barked at the rookie.

"It was bad, Morgan's team went in and then the whole thing exploded. The front of the building just came at us, and some of the first floor came down blocking the entrance. Morgen and Nix are both down, Togashi has some massive burns but he's still conscious. Toren's MIA but things aren't looking good. Sargent Weaver's taken command, he's called in a Null-Static Wave for the whole building"

"Slag, that won't do any good." She pushed herself to her feet and gritted her teeth at a wave of pain. Her whole left side was a mess where she had turned into the blast. Her left arm had several false skin field bandages. The riot gear had saved most of her body but was mostly torn to shreds because of it. It hadn't been able to stop the momentum propelling the shrapnel of course. She could already feel several large bruises. There was probably more, but she didn't stop to analyze every little ache. Instead she shoved it all into a back closet of her mind where it wouldn't stop her from acting.

The rookie was there in front of her. He was holding her good arm, trying to support her and guide her back to her seat. "Please Commissioner, I'll give him a message for you but you shouldn't be moving around yet."

"Name, kid?"

"Ian Hawk."

"Well then officer Hawk, the way I see it you can help me or I can make your life a living hell for the next six months. That's after I make sure the next one that doctor sees is you, and go anyway."

"If I let you go there's a chance you won't live to make my life hell."

"If that building comes down it could kill us all and cause me a hell of a lot of unnecessary paperwork. Do you have any idea how much I hate unnecessary paperwork?" Gordon was running on nothing but pure contrariness by this point.

"I can only guess." Hawk replied but he slipped under her arm and helped support her over to where Weaver was controlling the flow of people with short precise orders.

Weaver was a good man and a good cop. He was by the book which made him an almost perfect second in command since Barbra was slightly prone to more unorthodox solutions. On the other hand he wasn't the person she would choose to deal with an unpredictable situation like this.

"Weaver, call off the Wave, Now!" Barbra's voice had either not been effected by the explosion or had already recovered, because it easily cut over the considerable amount of general noise. Weaver looked up and noted how she was approaching with the help of Ian.

"Commissioner, you have suffered a severe injury, the extent of which is not yet known. Please return to the medical area. I have things in hand here and will keep you informed of all progress." Weaver started to turn away as if that settled matters.

"I have not turned over command Sargent. You will call off that Wave this minute or you can sit the rest of this out."

He turned back to her with his perpetual blank expression. "Commissioner, even ignoring your injuries, a Null-Static Wave is standard practice." he turned to pin Ian with a look. "Officer, please escort Commissioner Gordon Back to the medical area."

"Like Hell. That wave won't do a damn thing except make half our weapons useless."

"The Wave will short out any electronics over level 5, including any remote detonators. I won't let good men walk into another explosion."

"Mad Stan doesn't use level 5 triggers. He doesn't use Level 5 anything except for parts of his vest and chances are Toren took that out already. You don't need a bomb to be smart to blow it up. But inside the Wave's perimeter over half of our equipment will be nun-functional. Including the targeting on all our weapons."

Weaver hesitated, running over the facts. After what seemed like far too long a stretch he nodded. Before any of them could do anything else a blue light field fell over the building from a group of cruisers hovering overhead.

"We are so fragged." Ian muttered under his breath.

Gordon caught the words since he was so close. "You can say that again, kid."

* * *

Matt studied the wall panel next to the emergency stairs. It was a simple system, monitor when the door was opened, keep it locked unless someone with the right key came along. It was a subset of the buildings main system and should have been independent of it in a situation like this. Unfortunately Dan had been right. The system was frozen and wouldn't open without a reboot. Once the system was rebooted Dan had a proper key-card, Robin wouldn't even have to break anything. The problem was, he couldn't get in to reboot the system. The computer in his glove didn't have the proper cord. TSE ports had become the standard almost ten years ago replacing the USB family as the best way to transfer data that wasn't completely wireless. But apparently Matt's suit hadn't been upgraded during that time.

Robin looked at the wall panel hoping he had missed a wireless censor. No such luck. The system was designed to be operated from the security office. This was just a redundant access panel.

"Something wrong?" Dan had been switching off between watching Robin and the corridor back to the lobby.

"Nothing a good hammer couldn't fix." Robin growled.

"What?"

"I said I think I'm going to have to break the door." This time his voice was louder, though he Kept it below the level where it would carry. "Stand back." Robin hadn't had time to experiment with the contents of the belt, but he had taken a look at what it contained. Half the pouches on each side contained a number of color coded pellets. The blue he figured would be ice, the gray was probably smoke, and so on. He found the pouch that contained a number of green pellets with a yellow stripe around the middle. He took a few steps back himself and flicked them at the door's heavy lock. The thin shell coating broke as they hit and covered the area in pale yellow goo. Matt watched as it seemed to do absolutely nothing.

"Is something supposed to be oh-" halfway through Dan's words the lock began to hiss and spark. Robin waited until he thought most of the lock would be gone then stepped forward and kicked at the door. It wasn't a very good kick and he ended up losing his balance and falling backwards, but the door came open. Dan helped him up.

They had just started down the stairs when everything went black.

Note:

ARARRRRRGRGRGRGRRRRRGGGGGGGG. For some reason writing Matt's sections were way harder than they should have been. At least Gordon was being cooperative but that might have been because half the time she was out of it so who knows. By the way I haven't forgotten about Terry and Bruce, there should be something with them next chapter.

Again if you want to see my pictures of Matt check my profile for links to my deviantArt.

One final thing: does anyone know what Ms. McGinnis does for a living? Send me a note if you have any ideas on the subject.


	12. Chapter 12

Terry had given up searching over the medical files after an initial look. He didn't have the background knowledge needed to find any inconsistencies. Instead he had headed for the kitchen. He had found that Wayne was a decent cook when he actually tried to be but most of the time the old man got berried in his work and forgot to eat. Terry didn't have that kind of concentration, or at least not when it came to picking apart documents for hours on end. The old man was a machine. So when his body complained that he hadn't had anything except half a sandwich since lunch he didn't try to ignore it. He decided on making real food rather then throwing something in the microwave, and was setting a pot on the stove for pasta when his phone buzzed. He pulled in out pinned it between his shoulder and ear.

"Hello."

"Terry? It's Max, something's wrong, I can't find your brother and, oh God."

"Max, calm down. Are you sure he's not there, he didn't leave a note or anything?"

"No there's nothing, just, oh God. There's a, I don't know what it is, a weapon of some kind. It's stuck in the sealing."

Terry could hear the panic at the edge of her voice. "Ok Max, listen to me. I'll be there as fast as I can, just hold on."

he dumped out the pasta water and ran back to the study.

"Something's wrong with my brother, Max is freaked." He grabbed his coat from the back of the couch as he spoke.

Wayne looked up and nodded. "Go, I'll call you if I find anything."

Matt had been between steps when the building went dark. Momentum carried him down two more steps before he stopped. It wasn't that there was a tremendous difference in light. The stairway had emergency lights but only on the landings. Moreover the walls were concrete and without windows. Dan's flashlight was the main source of light and that didn't seem to be effected. What made Matt stop was the sound.

Overall the building had been quiet but not silent. Sounds of the city had filtered in from outside. The main power had been off but the backup still caused lights to hum and the occasional system to beep softly. Between Mad Stan's explosions there had been the sounds of rubble falling, glass breaking and a hundred other small sounds. Now all those sounds were being covered by a slightly rhythmic hum.

Robin jumped the last few steps to the second floor landing and pressed himself ageist the wall trying hear or feel anything else.

What he noticed sent shivers through him. His costume had shut down. The slight vibration of the breathing monitors was gone. He tried activating the computer in his wrist but nothing appeared. Beyond the building he could faintly hear the police shouting and moving but the building its self had gone quiet.

"The light's off, is something wrong?" Dan seemed oblivious to the state of the building at large.

"It's nothing, this is our floor." Robin took another pair of pellets from his belt. He sent up a silent prier that at least they would still work, and sent them flying towards the lock.

The wave fell over the building and everything seemed to pull in. Gordon watched as each of her men followed the paten drilled into them. All of them stopped, knelt down or put their back to a wall and switched off the parts of their equipment that the wave would shut down. There was a moment of pride; all of her men were well trained and reacted quickly. Still most of them weren't used to working without the advantages that the wave canceled. There would be mistakes made and more injuries then were necessary. No use now though, the field was self perpetuating to a certain extent. The more tech inside the perimeter the longer it would last without external power. Gordon took charge.

"Someone get me an estimate on when that field is coming down. Mad Stan is going to need an exit if he's going to blow the building. Who's on perimeter? I want all nonessential and injured personnel out of here. I wan't an inferred sweep of the every building within a one block radius. I know we've checked most of those buildings but check them again. If civilians are hurt the department will never hear the end of it." for a moment her head swam and officer Hawk had to help her stay standing. When her head cleared she found herself looking up at the building. The earlier sight of the boy crashing through the fourth floor window came back to her and she cursed. The interference of a child was the last thing she needed. She needed to stop Mad Stan from blowing the building if at all possible. For that she needed men on the inside; she needed to know what was happening.

In the past they had always handled Mad Stan without too much trouble. He tended to make a lot of noise and no one complained when he was taken down with slightly more force then was necessary. This rampage didn't seem to fit the pattern. If it was because of chance or design she didn't know but holing up in a building like this was making it a lot harder to pin him down. So far normal tactics had only gotten her men hurt. It was time for a bit of lateral thinking.

"Weaver, I wan't three strike teams ready in five minutes and equipped with wave-proof gear. Get it done!"

He seemed to decide that following orders would be the best course of action even if his commander was still injured, and got to work.

By that time the techs had had more then enough time to set up a base on site. Barbra had Hawk help her over to the camper sized truck that had unfolded it's contents unto the pavement across the street from the mall. She commandeered one of the chairs and a workstation to match it. One of the newer techs started to protest but was stopped by his fellows. It may have been common knowledge that she had started out as a tech rather then a beat cop but only a few knew that she was still one of the best in the business. As commissioner she had access to half the cities files anyway. Blueprints and schematics of the mall appeared on the screens around her like magic. Not that the police didn't already have blueprints but those didn't cover things like the ware on the building over the years or which of the stores contents might be dangerous if the building did come down. By the time the strike teams were ready she had plans and information for each of them. 

It took Terry almost 40 minutes to get home even using all the shortcuts he knew. He had to detour around a police blockade at one point which added a ten minutes to his time and took a few years off his life while it was at it. He slammed into the parking lot in the basement of his building, parked his speeder and headed for the elevator at a fast walk. When the elevator didn't arrive in the first minute he found himself gritting his teeth and went for the stairs. He met Max at the front door.

Terry gently pushed her aside and stepper into the front room. He took in everything then turned to Max with a look that was strong and more then a little frightening.

"Did you touch anything?" his voice was low. For a moment she thought it was soft but then she realized how hard he was fighting not to crush her arm beneath his fingers.

She had to pause to remember his question, and then to figure out an answer. "no, I, maybe, I came in, put down my bag." she waved a hand at where the bag rested on a chair. "I called, but Matt didn't answer. I checked his room, then the kitchen, then I called you."

"Have you checked any of the other rooms?"

She shook her head. "I didn't think, I"

He cut her off. "Good, stay here." he guided her to the chair her bag was in. Without saying anything else he slipped through the rest of the house checking each room. The possibility that there was anyone hiding was small but the last thing he was going to do was take chances.

His body fell into a rhythm as he checked all the possible hiding places. He was moving with a slow grace that seemed both strange and natural at the same time. Terry recognized it as muscle memory and didn't try to override it but the pattern wasn't one he remembered from his street days or from the Dojo so where on earth had he learned it? He added it to the list of oddities from the last few days, and set the matter aside. No point puzzling over a personal mystery when there was a bigger and more important one sitting right in front of him.

When he was sure the apartment was empty of lurkers. He went to stand in the doorway to the living room. Max looked up immediately. It looked like she had calmed down a bit and was starting to get angry with herself for panicking the way she had. He knew that to be her habit whenever something went wrong: first freak out then get angry and if possible make sure it never happened again. Terry nodded towards the kitchen and she pushed herself up. Together they walked to the kitchen and looked up at the black and red device in the ceiling.

At first Terry thought it was a throwing star, it didn't look like the right shape but there was nothing else it could be. The central black spike was framed by two bright red, curved blades, one of which was embedded about two feet from the light fixture. Maybe the odd shape made it easier to throw.

"What is it?" Max still sounded nervous but her voice wasn't shaking.

"A bat."

"What?"

Terry shrugged and shook his head. "It popped into my head."

Max gave him a look that was skeptical moving down towards 'are you crazy'. Well at least she was acting like herself again. He pulled out one of the chairs at the kitchen table and used it to retrieve the weapon. Once it was out of sight Max seemed to relax even farther.

"Do you think Matt was kidnaped?" she said nodding to the object as evidence.

Terry looked down at the throwing star. "Possible, but the kid wouldn't have gone down without a struggle."

"Well, I don't think he would have just left without a note or anything."

Terry quickly agreed, "his bag's still in the front room, same with his phone." He paused as something caught his eye. There was a backpack under the kitchen table. A second look confirmed that it was his own bag, and Terry had a flash of memory; Matt asking if he needed his bag before he left.

"Terry?" Max's voice was back to cautious.

He looked up then followed her eyes down to the throwing star in his hand. Unconsciously he had folded it until the two 'wings' were resting next to the center spike. The whole thing was left as a compact little spike that could be palmed or hidden in a fold of cloth. He curled his fingers around it and wasn't wholly surprised when it didn't feel odd in his grip. It had been one of those weeks. With a quick glance at Max he ducked down and retrieved his bag. The main pocket was open and half the contents threatened to fall out. Terry shoved them back in and used the motion to hide slipping the throwing star in his boot. Sometimes old habits died hard.

Laying the bag out on the kitchen table at first didn't provide any information. Max pointed out that the bag it's self could be the clue, after all Matt had talked about it when Terry had last seen him. Terry had nodded at the idea but hadn't stopped looking for other clues. The contents of the bag were only what Terry normally carried.

Then he noticed the pocket. Max had been skimming through his notebooks looking for anything out of place like a scribbled note or a marked page at that moment, and didn't see it. Terry's instinct made him turn the bag around so she couldn't see it. It was an odd impulse but he followed it anyway. These days there was a lot of that, and if Terry hadn't been one to trust his instincts he might have felt like a puppet with some unknown force pulling the strings.

The pocket was half open. From the closed half he could tell it would be impossible to see if you weren't looking for it when it was closed. He gently took the zipper pull and opened the pocket the rest of the way. The pocket was lined with a thin layer of cloth-like metal with a small collection of circuits lined up next to the zipper. It was also empty. Yet another puzzle. He set the bag aside.

"Max,"

"What, you find something?"

"No. Listen there's no sign of a struggle. Seems to me, he probably went out and lost track of time. I wan't you to stay here in case he comes back while I check out a few places." he stood up and swung his jacket over one shoulder. Max pursed her lips then nodded when she couldn't find any flaw in his logic.

"Keep your phone on."

"You too."

* * *

Note:

In my original layout of this story Gordon was only a background figure. I'm so glad she decided to correct me. There's been a few people commenting on the technical stuff i've thrown in. Basically the Null-Static Wave sucks out the power from anything with microchips and uses that power to keep the field running. As for the other stuff, well I won't explain every little thing but I will say that i'm a tech geek. I'll probably keep coming up with this stuff.

So yes, Terry, and we get to see Max this chapter as well. Actually that first part probably should have been in an earlier chapter but I got caught up in the other things that were happening. I don't plan for Max to be a big character but then the same could have been said of Gordon.

On another note Scriviner, my beta has not been returning my emails, so this hasn't been proofread. Scriviner if you are reading this send me an email to let me know that you're still alive. Also thanks to everyone who has sent in reviews. They make my heart sing. :)

also note:

I would like to apologize for this coming so late it was not my intension to delay. The next chapter will be up withing two weeks, scouts honor.


	13. Chapter 13

By the time the teams Gordon had ordered arrived, the Commissioner had the Tech Van humming with activity. Before, there hadn't been time to gather much Intel before Mad Stan had announced his presence by crashing a van into the building, the guards had hit the alarm and ran when they realized what was happening. All things considered that was probably a good move. Police response time had been under two minutes but when Stan had blown up those first cars he had upped the ante. At the time, Barbra had been forced to assume that since the building was closed and no one else was screaming, that anyone left inside had taken cover. That if she could only manage to contain the situation, everything would have been fine.

It was too late to worry about it now but that didn't stop her from mentally kicking herself. She should have seen it coming. She should have done more.

When the last officer arrived, she turned in her chair to face them. The three teams were made up of three officers each, Weaver knew what he was doing; each and every one of the men and women before her were people Gordon trusted unwaveringly. She had worked closely beside all of them long enough to gain _their_ unquestioning loyalty in any situation – two of them she had even personally trained. That being the case, she didn't bother with pleasantries.

"The goals of this assignment are to take down the target and secure the safety of any civilians. Since Mad Stan most likely has the whole building rigged to blow, this is a voluntary mission, if you want to back out, do so now." She surveyed the line, no one moved. One of them even had the gaul to roll his eyes. She didn't wait for more than thirty seconds before going on, a small hard smile touching one corner of her lips. Waiting any longer would have been pointless, these officers had been picked for a reason.

"Team One will be the spear. Take down part of the wall and get his attention. Keep it; that's where Team Two comes in. Team Two; you'll enter through the delivery entrance. Intel says Stan's blocked it, so it's possibly rigged it to blow, but it's also his only reliable way out. There has to be a way through the blockade safely. Find it and come up from behind while he's distracted by Team One. Try to keep it fast and clean, we don't want to set anything off by accident." She paused to make sure first Jones then Higgs acknowledged the statement. They were both good and deserved to be on the team but that didn't mean Higgs wasn't a cocky punk who still thought he was immortal and Jones trusted to luck far too often.

Having driven the seriousness of the situation into Team One and Two, the deadly importance of their tasks, she turned to the last three members of the group and steeled her fingers. "Team Three, your access point is on the third floor. You'll go up through the mall's neighbour; a zip wire is being prepared for you. It's your job to secure the civilians, but if you get a clear shot of Mad Stan, take it." She shifted enough to reach her keyboard and spun a monitor around for them to see.

"The Rainbow Mall outsourced its security to a firm called Ferrous Inc. Their practice is to upload all security feeds to an external server every ten minutes. The last upload was seven minutes before the Wave went up." Gordon typed in a short command and the screen began playing a short clip from one of the fourth floor cameras.

For the first ten seconds or so the screen showed only empty shop fronts and a dark hallway. Then the beam of a flashlight cut across the screen, and a moment later two figures followed. The first figure was short, clearly a child with dark hair pale skin and wearing a red and black costume. The child was quickly followed by an older man in a guard's uniform. The officers watched as they crossed the camera's field of vision. They could be heard talking quietly off screen for about a minute and a half before they re-entered the picture and hurried down the hall before the picture suddenly cut off in a burst of static.

While they were watching the screen Barbra watched them. She couldn't put her finger on what was off about the situation. There was something about the boy that didn't seem to fit with the rest of it. Logic gave her no reason to think he was anything but a foolish kid in over his head, but her instinct was convinced that wasn't right. She couldn't get a bead on him. Part of her knew, just knew, that he was there to help and could be trusted as much as any person on her team. Another part of her, a large part, wanted to grab him and get him out of the line of fire. To put herself between him and any danger. Then the logic kicked in again and reminded the rest of her that he was a civilian who had broken through a police perimeter to crash through the fourth floor window of a building that was about to be blown up by a madman.

She had to wonder if there were any missing hospitals patients that someone had forgotten to tell her about because that kid was certifiable. And yet he wasn't doing that bad of a job. As she watched the faces of her men not one seemed put off by the fact that there was a child in the building. None of them seemed worried and a few of them even looked encouraged, as if the boy was somehow a good sign. None of it made sense, so she fell back on an old standby: gather more information.

She played two more clips to her people, the first a short minute long clip that the audio people had managed to get sound off from the second floor. The picture was bad and what could be seen wasn't very identifiable but the calls for help were more than clear.

"This one is from the second floor, camera 14 on the east side." She didn't bother ordering it to be a priority. The cries for help were haunting. It was clear from their faces that they thought this was more urgent then the first clip.

The last bit of video was a minute and a half long and showed Mad Stan from an odd tilted angle.

"This is all we could get from the first floor. At a guess I'd say Stan took out the cameras, but either missed this one or didn't do as good a job as he thought. Remember this is from almost fifteen minutes ago we have no real idea where any of them are now. Questions?"

"That first clip, do we know where they were headed?" Surprisingly the question came from Ian, who was hovering in the background.

"According to the building's blueprints the only thing down that hall is the emergency stairs, but from there we have no information on if they went up or down. Any other questions?"

Her people stood to attention looking as strong and brave as she could ever ask.

"Alright, go in, take down Stan, get those people out of there, and disarm any explosives you can. Above all _keep him from blowing that building_! You'll be equipped with what Wave-proof gear we have but keep checking your equipment in any case. Best guess the Wave won't be coming down in less than ten minutes, eight at the earliest. Radio Communication is unavailable until the Wave comes down. You'll be on your own." She studied the nine officers before her then nodded curtly, "Weaver has your equipment waiting. Get to work."

They got to work.

"Commissioner?" Ian again, she really should have given him something to do. "Aren't those tapes private property?"

For a rookie he could think. She would have to remember that, or maybe he just had guts. She wasn't sure which she wanted it to be, but she liked both in her officers, to an extent. Kid had potential.

"What are you suggesting officer?"

He looked at her, then up at the building, "Think it'll work?"

That was a kind of question she hated trying to answer.

"Coffee."

He blinked, "What?"

"If you haven't got anything better to do, go get me some coffee." She glanced at him sideways yet still not really taking her eyes off the building. He was looking at her, reading her if that was possible. He really was a smart kid.

"Yes Ma'am"

"Cream, no sugar." she called after his disappearing back. Potential alright.

* * *

Robin was forced to creep around the outer edges of the building to get to the bathrooms where the other two people were. He didn't want to get close to the centre of the building for fear of being seen. Dan plodded along behind him trying to stay as quiet as possible. Robin's mental Map held true.

It was immediately clear why the two people hadn't been moving around. The entire hallway leading to the pair of restrooms had collapsed. It wasn't hard to guess what had happened. Either one of Mad Stan's early grenades or perhaps the shock from a larger explosion had brought the wall down... along with a good portion of the store next to it. Robin couldn't help but stare at the poised hand of a manikin reaching from the rubble, for a moment, frozen. Then he heard the soft pleading voice from beyond and forced himself to snap out of it.

"It's alright; it's going to be alright. Just hold on a little longer. It's okay..." the words were repeated like a chant, or a prayer from beyond the rubble in a broken voice.

Robin wanted to call out, wanted to say that he was coming, but he didn't. He knew that would only draw attention in a building this quiet. He turned to Dan, and put a finger to his lips. With one hand he gestured for the older man to wait and watch. Dan nodded and turned back to watch the way they had come.

Robin surveyed the pile of rubble in front of him. In the dark it was almost impossible to tell what was stable and what would collapse the whole pile. He considered asking to borrow Dan's flashlight but it was bulky and would make it hard to climb. Instead he raided the belt again, this time coming up with a pair of glow-sticks. Snap! And chemical light suddenly sent a sickly green over the rubble. Privately Robin prayed that the ancient chemicals would last long enough for him to get out of there.

With the extra light Robin was able to see that the rubble was not the result of only a collapsed wall but a section of the ceiling as well. It had piled up against the right hand wall, chunks of concrete intermixed with ceiling tiles, splintered wooden beams, plaster and linoleum. Skirting the edge to the left of the pile was possible but he would end up in the store rather than the hall he was aiming for. Going straight over the pile would be tricky since that was where it was most likely to shift. The pile was the tallest on the right side but the wall would steady it and give Robin something to hold on to. With no time to think of a better plan he chose to scale the right side. He hated having to go slowly, looking before he carefully placed each step. The small voice from beyond seemed to urge him to hurry. At the top he had to crouch, sliding through the small opening between the remaining ceiling and a nasty looking splintered beam.

That was when his luck gave out.

As he turned to descend the far side, the block he was balanced on gave way. With most of his balance already over the far side that was the direction he fell. His right hand clamped down on a pipe which came loose from the pile almost at once but did manage to shift his fall so he wasn't going head first. He slid down the pile on his left side, desperately trying to catch hold of something else to stop his fall. The best that could be said was that the fall wasn't long. He bumped down in a pile of newly shifted debris, and armour or not, groaned in pain. Already he ached and there was no doubt that it would only get worse with time. Then another thought struck him.

How much noise had his fall caused? So much for stealth.

"Hello? Please help me, please."

Robin lifted his head and, fighting through the pain, looked at his new surroundings. The hall ended about fifteen feet away with what appeared to be a broom closet and the entrance to the girls' restroom. Almost directly at his feet was the entrance to the boy's room. He bit back a silent thanks when he realized that was where the voice was coming from. He tried to sit up and his breath caught. He fought against the pain moving brought and desperately hoped that there was nothing worse than scratches and sprains. Once he was upright, the most recent pains faded into the background with the rest of the night's bruises. He moved over to the half open door and slipped through it.

The bathroom was all white tiles and stainless steel. Under the green chemical light the pattern on the floor weaved itself into a shifting maze. The walls seemed to go on forever, the long mirror on the wall casting specters into the room. Polished metal and black blood reflected the green light in sharp arcs.

The voice had come from a woman. She was kneeling in the middle of the floor, her long hair escaping from her bun to half hide her face. A man's head rested in her lap, it was his blood on the floor. There was a long gash on his left arm that seemed to curl from behind his shoulder to the crook of his elbow. It had been crudely wrapped in now sodden cloth. There were further scrapes all across his right side and the way the woman cradled his head made Robin instinctively realize that something was wrong.

She was staring at him and in the silence he could hear her raged breathing. Her eyes seemed to scream even when she wasn't making a sound. He moved forward slowly like she was an animal that might go wild at any moment. When he was three feet away he slipped down to one knee. It made him shorter than her by almost a full six inches but it calmed her slightly. When he reached out to touch the man's uninjured arm, she flinched before forcing herself to relax.

"Please, please help." Her voice was small and broken.

Robin nodded, "I will." He promised, his own voice sounded strange in his ears, rougher than it should have been. He set that aside and leaned forward. The man's pulse was uneven but strong and he was breathing, but that didn't mean he wasn't in danger.

Robin tried to remember everything he knew about head injuries. It was actually quite a lot; one advantage of having a doctor for a mom. He had no experience though which seemed to nullify everything he could remember. He knew moving the injured person was generally a bad idea but only if the surroundings were safe and these weren't. He took a deep breath to sort out his thoughts. One thing at a time.

He fumbled through the seemingly magical belt and once again found what he was looking for: a roll of bandages and disinfectant. He crawled over the man's legs and knelt by the injured arm. The rag had been tied tight and appeared to have been torn from the hand drier. Considering the state the woman was in, Robin was surprised she had had the presence of mind - then again sitting in the dark with a dying man, explosions rocking the building around you would put anyone off the their game a bit.

Robin carefully undid the towel so the bleeding wouldn't start up again, or at least wouldn't get worse. He covered the wound liberally with the disinfectant spray then wrapped the it with calm practiced movements, all the while mentally thanking his mom the whole time.

"Thank you." the woman's voice startled him just as he was tying the bandage in place. She looked slightly calmer, or at least less likely to jump at the smallest movement. Robin took the glow-stick from where he'd been holding it between his teeth.

"You're welcome. Are you hurt?"

She shook her head; glancing down at the man. Her voice had escaped her again.

"What's your name?"

The normality of the question threw her, making her answer without the words being processed by her brain.

"I'm Lark, this is my boyfriend David."

"Ok Lark, I'm going to go see what's happening out there. When I come back we're going to move David to a safer place." He handed her the glow-stick and bent a second into life for himself. The fear seemed to creep back into her eyes even with the light and the promise of his return. His heart sped up a bit. Suddenly, he didn't want to be here anymore. He wanted to be back at home with the radio under the covers, safe and not responsible for the lives of David and Lark and Dan. How could Terry possibly pull this off night after night?

When had it all changed from some adventure to a freezing nightmare? He looked at the door and found himself walking through it. Back in the hall, he listened. It took several deep breaths but finally he was able to calm down enough to hear more than his own blood pounding in is ears. His eyes had grown accustomed to the green light, or maybe his brain had just decided that colour was too much of an effort to process. He couldn't hear anything. What did that mean? It meant something he was sure.

He considered climbing the pile again to see what was going on, and that was when it hit him. Not only could he not hear anything, he couldn't see anything or, to be more specific, he couldn't see the glow from Dan's flashlight. He hid his glow-stick in his cape to be sure but even then there was no glow in the hall, no dent in the darkness of the pile. This time he concentrated, closing his eyes and picking out each individual sound. Nothing, background sounds from outside maybe a pair of footsteps from farther off but otherwise nothing.

A tiny voice inside him started to get very angry, but mostly he just suddenly felt very alone.

* * *

Gordon waited.

She hated not knowing what was happening. Years of experience told her to trust her people, but even so she didn't have to like it. She wanted to be next to them, in the heart of the fray. Weaver was coordinating the three teams and kept her informed with reports when they entered the building. The problem was that there was nothing else she could really do until more information came in or something else happened. She was used to being active and without things to occupy her thoughts the pain from her earlier injuries was fighting to make its self known.

Ian returned with her coffee.

"Commissioner? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She glanced up at his face; he looked genuinely worried instead of asking out of hand. "Why?" She tilted her head back to examine him as she gently took the coffee from him.

"It just... you seem to have something on your mind."

He was hedging but that was fine. He was also right.

"The boy." She didn't elaborate. He would understand or he wouldn't, and she wanted to see just how intelligent he was.

"Yeah." he was smiling slightly even if it didn't reach his eyes. "Robin, I didn't think there would be another one in my lifetime. Still, up until a few years ago I could have said the same about Batman." he shook his head and shrugged.

Gordon took a drink of her coffee. So, now she had a name for the kid, and apparently a partner as well. It was a place start. But first thing first, the Wave was going to come down some time in the next five minutes. She took another drink and turned back to her console. By the time the wave came down she would be ready to hack in. Once the system was hers she'd have more than enough to keep her occupied. Gordon really hated not knowing what was happening. Even her long years of experience couldn't stop her from growling with impatience. She had a feeling that something was going to go sideways before this whole mess was done.

And as history said, her hunches were generally right.

* * *

Note: ok here it is, the longest chapter yet. I think I made it inside the two weeks I promised. This chapter gave me quite a bit of trouble at first but I think it's mostly been smoothed out. I decided to make Matt's mom a doctor since that makes sense and as far as I can tell her job was never specified in the show. The next chapter shouldn't be too long in coming but I do have finals this week so who knows. Also I'd like to send a big thank you to Rose Midnight Moonlight Black who has offered to help Beta and is the sole reason this chapter is not a flop. Thank you Rose :). Scriviner if you are reading this i'm still waiting for you to return my emails. Ok enough with that.

Reviews are loved and always treasured. :)


	14. Chapter 14

Terry turned up his collar as he stepped onto the street. It was late. Summer seemed to be almost upon them even though it was only early May, but even so the night held a chill. The nightlife was waking up and getting ready to play and never mind that it was the middle of the week. There had been a time when he would be out there roaming the streets, looking for trouble, and cheep thrills. The perpetual lone wolf who picked fights with anyone who even looked at him wrong, even if they had a gang of friends. That had all stopped when he got the job with Wayne of course. Now though, he found himself missing it. The freedom and the rush of danger narrowly averted had been addicting.

He easily fell back into the 'don't mess with me' way of walking, keeping his shoulders hunched and his eyes dancing from shadow to shadow. Even worried about Matt, he was enjoying this. Terry had always been a night person, and Gotham nights were in a whole other class. How had he managed to give this up? It wasn't that he didn't like the old man. In truth he respected him greatly, but there was nothing that came to mind when he asked himself why that was. There was their first meeting, the old man had more then held his own, but if it had been anyone else that would have inspired caution not respect. Maybe it was because his dad had died that night. Wayne had certainly helped him find closure, though he couldn't quite remember how.

Matt wasn't at his arcade, which was busy closing up for the night. Terry took the next left planning on circling around past the community center and the only decent park in the neighborhood to end at Cheesy Dan's. If he hadn't found Matt by then then he'd check the beefy burger and a few friends that lived close enough that Matt might go over after school. They were in the opposite direction and farther off.

Terry didn't like the idea of his kid brother off somewhere in the middle of the night. Matt was supposed to be the good son. His grades were good and he didn't hang out with the wrong type of kid. Not that Terry really knew much about his brother. He worked too much for that. But that only meant he had to be there all the more if, when, something like this happened. If he couldn't be the cool older brother that Matt deserved then he could still be the protector that he needed.

He came to the community center which was still open since night classes for the college were sometimes taught there. A few quick questions of the clerk confirmed that Matt wasn't there and indeed hadn't been there for several days. A lead weight settled into Terry's chest. If his brother didn't spent the afternoons here then what was he doing with his time? Suddenly his disappearance took on a slightly different tone. Terry checked back as far as two months in the logs the Center kept and what he found made his heart sink even farther. Matt hadn't been in more then once a week in that whole time.

He smiled at the clerk and thanked him before going out into the Gotham night once more. He headed for the park, muling over the possibilities. Matt had only just entered middle school and on top of that he was small for his age. The gangs normally didn't go recruiting people that young, not unless the kid had an older sibling in the gang. Which meant if some gang was interested in Matt it was probably because of Terry. Given Terry's reputation they almost certainly weren't planning anything good.

Terry pulled out his phone as he came in sight of the park. Max answered on the first ring.

"Terry, good news?"

"No, no sign of him." There was no need to tell her his suspicions before he had any proof. "Do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Mom keeps a list of numbers for Matt's friends; start calling people, but don't let them know Matt's missing."

"Kind of a, 'he went over to a friend but didn't say which', thing?"

"Let me know if he turns up."

"Same to you."

Terry hung up the phone as he surveyed the soccer field. Someone had forgotten their coat next to one of the goal posts but otherwise it was empty. The play structure was empty as well, no one was in the park at all apart from a lone jogger circling the block. Terry quickened his pace as he headed for Cheesy Dan's.

Terry entered the restaurant slash arcade quietly. There were maybe two dozen people around his own age scattered around the various vid-games in small groups. The tables were mostly empty except for one group of about six or seven who were huddled around someone's laptop watching the latest Knights game using the free wi-fi. A pair of employees were cleaning up the debris from what appeared to be a kids birthday party. Terry didn't envy them; the amount of glitter on that table could keep a flock of pixies going for a year. Terry didn't see his brother. He went through the arcade and the tubes again, just in case, but his hopes weren't high. He knew he hadn't missed anything.

Stepping out onto the pavement he let the night calm him. The chill leached over his skin solidifying into steel at his spine. Matt wasn't the kind of kid to go looking for trouble, which probably meant the trouble had found him rather then the other way around. If anyone had hurt him, if there was so much as a scratch on Terry's little brother, those responsible would be made to regret it. It wasn't a decision, it was a fact.

That was when the hairs on the back of Terry's neck stood on end. Someone was watching him. That couldn't be good.

* * *

The sound of old-fashioned gunfire forced Matt to pull the Robin persona over himself again. He fed the anger all his fear and somehow forced himself to move. This time he didn't bother trying to be quiet, he just scrambled up over the pile of ruble trusting that whoever was shooting was going to be otherwise occupied. He slid down the opposite side of the pile just as an explosion blossomed up from the first floor. The world shown in monochrome for a heartbeat as the flash threatened to blind him. The mask saved his eyesight but even so the afterimages were imprinted on his brain.

The images had to scream at him for a full five seconds before he realized what he was seeing. Silhouettes and shadows from more then one person between him and the blast. His ears complained again as the sound of screeching metal and glass faded, and the gunfire returned along with Mad Stan's incomprehensible shouting. Robin pressed himself agents the nearest wall as something that wasn't an explosion made the ground shake with a near deafening crash. He dropped the glow stick and in rolled away across the floor as Robin fought to stay upright. There was more shouting and suddenly the volume was turned way down leaving Robin's ears ringing at the lack of sound.

Robins eyes finally adjusted and with the floor currently steady he chanced creeping forward. He crouched, keeping low next to the wall until he could see the center of the building. When he saw what was happening he nearly panicked.

Dan was leaning over the railing seemingly about to fall and gripping desperately not to. Behind and slightly to one side was Mad Stan, still shouting and waving what might have been a shotgun or a grenade launcher or something in between. His hand was gripping a handful of the back of Dan's shirt and the fabric looked like it could rip at any second. He was threatening someone out of Robins sight on the first floor. Dan was half hostage, half human shield and clearly terrified. Someone shouted from down below and Robins ears had cleared enough for him to get the gist of it. Cool commands to let the hostage go and surrender. The police then, which meant that Gordon was doing something if nothing else.

Soft almost black on black movement caught his eye. He tried to catch it again and blessed the mask that was still making it possible to see even if Robin had no idea how it was still working when everything else was dead as a doornail. Beyond where Mad Stan was in full rant mode someone was definitely moving. Robin tried to picture the whole situation from a different angle running through the possibilities of who this new party was.

He was crouched at one end of the hallway running the length of the building on the east side of the open central space. Mad Stan was about half way down the hall leaning over the railing and still threatening Dan who had managed to pull himself back out of danger of falling. Between Stan and Robin were the nonfunctioning escalators that Dan had called the front stairs. Behind Mad Stan was the elevator, or what was left of it. Something had torn or blasted the box off it's rails and set it plummeting to the first floor where it now lay in a twisted heap of glass and aluminum. It was past that, that Robin had seen movement. At the far end of the hall was a T junction and there were at least two people hiding behind the storefront at the corner.

It took him only a moment to rule out anyone other then the cops. Apart from the fact that Gordon was too smart to send in just one teem without backup there was no way they could have gotten in apart from a way similar to his own. The back stairs might have been accessible from the first floor but to get to them someone would have to pass through the open space that was currently a firing zone. It was possible that they could have been civilians but Robin doubted that the bat's censors had been wrong when he originally scanned the building. Plus they weren't acting like civilians; they weren't panicking.

Beneath the Robin persona Matt wanted to grit his teeth and scream. He had managed to stumble into what seemed to his armature eyes to be a good position and he had no idea what to do. Terry would have known what to do, Batman would have acted without hesitation. Even the other Robins would have been able to do something. But Matt was just a scared kid in a stolen costume with a belt that could just as easily blow him up as help him. Being out of his depth was an understatement. By all rights he shouldn't be here. All the other Robin's probably had months of training before they were let out of the cave and even years before they were allowed to go solo. If he got out of this alive he vowed to train until he was half dead. He didn't want to feel like this ever again. He didn't want to feel like this now.

He came out of his thoughts in time to see Mad Stan lean over the railing, and shout "-that, you filthy government trash." and pull the trigger of his weapon.

This time Robin managed to grab the wall before he was thrown off his feet. Grenade launcher then, not shotgun. Dazed, he watched what happened next unfold without realizing what was going on.

A section of the walkway opposite Mad Stan collapsed into rubble sending the cops on the first floor diving for cover. Mad Stan started shouting again, taunting them. Then the cops at the other end of the hall either saw an opening or decided to give their counterparts some cover because one of them started firing. It wasn't the rapid ThrapThrapThrapThrap of automatic fire but the slower Thrum... Thrum, of aimed shots. Robin saw the spark as the first shot hit the railing between the cops and Stan. The second hit Stan's shoulder as he turned towards the sound. The vest caught it but even so he was knocked back, the impact spinning him half around. Dan cried out in shock and as if it had been a signal Robin moved.

He watched in what seemed to be slow motion as Mad Stan pulled the pin on another of his signature grenades (just how many of those things did he have?) and sent it flying down the hall towards the cops. Shrapnel exploded in all directions, and Mad Stan started laughing.

By that point Robin was already moving. He had launched himself forward, cape snapping back like a flag. As his shoulders pressed forward his arms came back and his fingers brushed the Batarangs clipped to the belt beneath the small of his back. Two of them unclipped from the belt and slid into his hands in one smooth motion. He brought his hands forward releasing them one, two, in time with his running stride.

And missed completely.

One went sailing out into the empty space to his left. The other embedded it's self into the wall. They only barely managed to act as a distraction. Stan glanced at the one batarang in the wall and turned towards Robin drawing a breath to speak. He never got that far.

Robin barreled into him at a full run, ramming his shoulder into Stan at about the level of the larger man's navel. There wasn't a lot of weight behind the move but he had enough speed to make it worthwhile. Mad Stan was caught off guard and finally released his hold on the stunned Dan. The two men stumbled apart. Dan managed to catch his balance before he fell down one of the escalators. Mad Stan was propelled into the railing where he managed to catch himself. The momentum carried Robin a step past Mad Stan before the Man grabbed him and lifted him off the floor.

"Dan, Run!" Robin shouted as he began to struggle. Dan was past the point of thought and simply did as he was told, turning and nearly falling down what would have been the up escalator if it had been on.

Mad Stan had a firm grip on Robin's cape and pulled. For a moment the boy couldn't breath as the fabric tightened over his neck and shoulders. Instinctively Robin's hands came up to his throat. The costume had been designed for quick removal as well as combat, and the clasp came apart with a touch. The boy fell to his knees and gasped in before he was once more pulled into the air.

Stan had him by one shin. Robin tried to kick at the man but he didn't have the leverage or training to make anything painful. He did manage to annoy the man who was forced to take a few stumbling steps before he could grab the boys other leg. Robin found his head swinging between the level of Stan's crotch and his knees. There was no way he was going to win a fight, so he took the only option that was open to him. He started playing dirty.

For the moment he ignored the fact that he was hanging upside down. He reached out for his attacker and when his hands found one of the clasps to Stan's vest he snapped it open. The next things his hands found were the man's belt, and in a moment that too was undone. Stan cried out in what might have been shock and was probably rage, swinging the boy in an arc that turned him slightly green. Mad Stan released one of Robin's legs in order to grab the fabric of Robins vest and yank him upright. Matt silently added possible whiplash to his list of injuries.

"Fragging brat you're going to-" the end of Mad Stan's sentence was cut off by the roar of a handful of different colored pellets from Robin's belt hitting the floor at the same time. There was a cry of shock and pain as Robin was blinded by a flash that even his mask couldn't fully handle. His ears were ringing again. For a moment there was smoke and the hairs on his arms were standing on end, then he hit something hard.

He was unconscious before he had time to register the pain.

* * *

Well there you have it. Things are heating up. Hope you like this chapter and sorry if it took longer then normal to post. I am trying to keep a schedule even if life can be hectic this time of year. The next few chapters should see some more action followed by the long awaited Plot that you all have been asking for. I do promise that everything will eventually make sense, or at least I hope it will.

This chapter hasn't been bataed but I have looked over it several times so hopefully there won't be anything too bad.

If you like then please review, and if you don't like review and tell me what I should be doing better.

:)


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15:

The Wave came crashing down and Gordon released her programs loose on the mall's unsuspecting security systems.

All systems had certain rules dictated by the operating system in use. The only truly secure system was one that was never connected to anything else. The firewall she encountered was standard, password, key encryption, and checksums. She slipped through them in seconds and had the security feeds passing through her computer as fast as it could be downloaded. As before, the cameras for the first floor were offline. She ran through the list of second floor cameras, viewing each for a few seconds scanning for movement.

There were four cameras with views of her people and another that caught a glow from the bathroom where she had noted a civilian presence earlier. Either the voice had quieted or the camera's mike was too weak to pick up the sounds. Her people, or at least Team Three, were taking cover behind a corner storefront, Teams One and Two were still on the first floor. The camera angles were such that she couldn't tell exactly what they were doing – Mad Stan however was in two of the camera's line of sight. Gordon looked away long enough to hook up a second screen and order the techs to record everything that went through her computer. The techs didn't blink, but jumped to follow her orders.

When she looked back at the screen a jolt went through her, a cold ghostly feeling gripping her. Somehow the boy, _Robin,_ had been caught by Stan. Stan being the larger and clumsier of the two couldn't to keep a solid hold on the boy. Then the boy was swung in an arc through the air. A fist seemed to clamp down on her heart and she suddenly found it hard to breath. Then the area was obscured by two short flashes and a large cloud of purple-gray smoke. Her hands raced over the keyboard but the camera's weren't equipped with the filters she needed to see through the smoke. There were a few short sounds from within the cloud, solid footsteps maybe, or something else to cause a thud.

Gordon reacted with the calm precision that had been drilled into her. She typed out a rapid almost musical rhythm, accessing the mall's basic control routines and transferring complete control to her. She controlled everything in the Mall.

One of her cameras was obscured by the smoke and she cursed at having to spend precious time finding another camera with a view of the scene. Every second counted. They were all low quality and over five years old, outdated which translated to practically useless in her book. In addition they had been designed to work best in full light and only later been retrofitted for night vision, she could tell by the way there was almost no depth to the pictures and the lines tended to blur together where there was any significant amount of detail. A wave of cold dropped over her and she welcomed how it seemed to push back her emotions allowing a purely rational analysis of the situation. For the moment she set aside the fact that she couldn't remember how or when she had learned this trick, it was simply too useful not to trust and use.

Gordon rotated through the camera views again; none of her people had seemed to realize that the wave was down. None of them that she could see had switched on their targeting or exchanged the old ammo-rounds for the more modern laser rifles. There was no visible or audible signal when the Wave came down unless you were looking right at it but there were signs, and with the wave down her men had the advantage in training, equipment and numbers.

"God, how can they even see?" Ian was leaning over her shoulder one hand on the back of her chair. He squinted at the poor picture quality as if trying to will it into something more helpful. "Wish it was day," his second comment was muttered under his breath and probably not meant for Gordon to hear, but with the ice running through her mind her senses seemed hyper sensitive and she did anyway.

That was the answer. Brilliant in its simplicity, it would serve the duel job of alerting her team to the fact that the wave was down as well. Her hands flew over the keys again, and moved Ian up in her mental Good Book of Favorites. Even if it had been pure luck his comment was still what gave her the idea.

All this time she had been thinking of the mall's systems in terms of what was off-line: the emergency lights, the elevators, the cameras on floor one. _Useless._ She had been working around the damage with the systems that were rebooted after the Wave went down. Most of what the security handled was already a part of that; but that was the nocturnal systems. The day systems hadn't been touched by the reboot, they weren't scheduled to even start powering up until 6:30 the following mourning.

A quick search showed Gordon that the whole process was automatically triggered at certain times. One short command from her keyboard changed the internal clock, and 30 seconds later things started happening.

The start-up consisted of layers of programs opening in groups about every ten minutes. The first changes went unnoticed to those inside, but flipping through the camera angles Gordon saw the security booth at the back of the first floor come to life.

She noticed Team Two still fighting with one of the doors in the loading dock and opened it for them. Then took it a step further and opened all the doors between them and the security room, Team One and the emergency stairs. Then the system turned on the display lights in the shop windows. She switched back to Team Three on the second floor and saw the grim smiles as they turned on coms, visors and everything else they hadn't been able to use.

The tide turned hard and fast.

* * *

Terry didn't openly react to the eyes following him. He just kept walking until he got to the corner. He had planned on turning to cross the street but that light was green. Instead he stopped to wait for the light straight across from him to turn; taking advantage of the extra time to adjust his jacket and take a low look around trying to spot his tail. They were at least good enough to not be obvious about it. So was he though, except he was _better_.

Terry could have spun around and gotten a better look. There were at least three doorways and an ally that could be useful as shadowy cover, but to do so would have let the tail know that _he knew_ they were there. He did consider it. Before, when he had walked these streets almost every night, he would have. Now though, some part of him wanted to be subtler, it whispered to him to be more cunning, darker then the last time he had walked the night. He wanted to use the night as a veil, a cloak and draw the fools into a place of his choosing. He wanted the adrenalin and fear and power of a body in motion. More than that, he wanted to make it look easy. He wanted to dazzle them. He wanted them to mutter under their breath that he couldn't be human, no way could he be human. He wanted to smell the uncertainly, see the hesitance, tasted the terror. He craved it, and here they were, practically offering themselves up on a plate.

So he played innocent. He acted like the months he had spent working for Wayne had made him soft, made him_weak_. And in turn they let themselves be seen.

False securities were such a wonderful thing.

* * *

Pain...

Pain –

Pain woke Matt – or at least it was the first thing that registered when he was thrust into consciousness. The second thing to register was a wall, or maybe it was the ceiling. The slightly textured surface had the strangest patterns on it, they flickered and turned, blinking and transforming, scrolled up and down. It was amusing in an _'I'm still in a lot of pain_' sort of way.

Then another light played over the wall, and he realized the patterns weren't on the wall like he had thought. He took a minute to process that. When the problem refused to be solved he tried glaring it into submission. That seemed to help, or at least the focus pushed the pain into the background so he could think a bit clearer.

The symbols hovered in front of his vision and after a moment he recognized them as numbers and letters. After a moment he realized they were actually on a screen in front of his eyes. It took another moment but he managed to fight his tired brain into translating them into something he could understand.

**System... Reboot in... Process %73**

**Equipment Damaged: 16... Systems Critical: ... Rerouting Power**

He had just finished reading when the display changed. Several graphs crossed his vision but before he could get a handle on what they meant the symbols changed again.

**... System Reboot in Process %79...**

It switched back to the graphs; then something else crossed his vision and Matt found his eyes tracking it. It was a boot, a big cargo boot with long black laces. The words played across it in red and green and blue like a holo-show. Butterflies and will-o-wisps and those long black laces turning slow arcs in a dance that was somehow beyond this world, unreal, and perfect. Matt's focus was bleeding away letting the lights draw him in, the pain a distant ache.

The boot finished one step causing the little plastic bit on the end of the lace to go into a momentary spiral before being jerked into an upward bounce. At the same time the display changed back to System Reboot **(%86)** and changed to orange. The foot in the boot shifted and began to lift upwards drawing the end of the boot lace through the word **in**.

The large part of Matt's brain that was lost in the pretty lights noted that part of the show was leaving. Through the daze, it came to the conclusion that that was a bad thing. His hand came forward, not out of any conscious effort, but simply to keep the pretties from going away. The black of the glove as it entered his line of sight distracted his brain, but by then the hand was already set on it's course; so when the hand grabbed the lace Matt was not a part of the equation. He was, in fact, completely unaware of the man attached to the boot going off balance. The man's thud as he hit the floor even caused an interesting little twist in the dance Matt was still watching.

Then another new object entered the stage and again it drew his eyes. It was also black, but this time it was long and slender. It added a new red dot to the dance so Matt knew this one was nice. Attached to the new object was something that might have been a hand. The hand was attached to something large black and white. It moved around him in big blocks of color that covered most of his vision at once.

The pain was creeping up on him again and even the nice lights couldn't keep it entirely distracted. He groaned, causing more pain and making the big shape in his vision turn. Letters came into view and the lights grabbed onto them. **GPD-SI** was displayed at the far left side of his vision while smaller green letters that scrolled across his sight. Matt couldn't read them, he didn't try. Instead he just let them turn the world a nice green for a while.

A hand touched his arm.

It wasn't a painful touch but the shock of it put his heart into overdrive. He moved without thought, acting on instinct he turned and rolled away from the unknown to come up on his knees. Then his brain managed to catch up and pushed into overdrive to make up for lost time. The pain induced fantasies shot out of existence as reality slammed down.

He was Robin. Mad Stan had threatened to blow up the Rainbow Mall. Terry wasn't being Batman. He had hacked the bat computer. Gordon wouldn't listen, was acting strange. He had tried to help. That last one had _hurt_.

Robin's brain finished its reboot.

He was sitting, pressed against the wall on the second floor of the Rainbow Mall. Mad Stan was on the ground being covered by two of Gotham's finest. A third was looking at Robin with surprise as he knelt three feet away. His breathing began to slow and almost immediately the pain rushed back. Robin hissed in a breath and forced it and the increasing pounding in his head back.

He smiled at his rescuers.

"Glad you could make it."

* * *

Ok first I would like to apologize for this being so late, what has it been since my last update? Over a month? I do have a good excuse though, in the form of a family reunion, so hopefully it won't happen again.

Second I will once again thank Rose for being wonderful and Beta-ing this chapter.

Third thank you: Little Karma, Jimmy Candlestick, Lenorathetrekkie, nequam-tenshi, Harm Marie and Onba for reviewing, whenever I see a review message in my inbox I jump for joy.

Be well everybody. :)


	16. Chapter 16

Robin let himself be guided down to the first floor, refusing the offers of help despite the many aches that were determined to make themselves known. He didn't think he was hiding his injuries too well since the cops kept giving him looks, though that could just be because of who he was rather than what he was doing. He could have been walking in a dream the whole situation was so surreal.

He didn't know what to do now that Mad Stan was in police custody. His body felt drained and his head was filling with cotton as he came down off the rush of adrenalin. His mask kept flashing information across his vision. Robin stumbled as his eyes tracked the tiny words and tried to keep track of the rest of the world at the same time. It was extremely distracting and Matt had no idea how to turn it off.

Now that his suit was mostly up and running it had become apparent just how out of date it was. A few of the controls might have been voice activated but most weren't and he had no idea how to access the controls or what the commands might have been. He made a mental note to figure them all out before Robin made his next appearance.

Robin squinted through the dust and the sudden glare of spotlights as he stepped through what had been the main set of doors earlier that evening. The mask took several seconds to filter the sudden increase in light, so it was his ears that alerted him to the strangeness of the situation. Around Robin and spreading out from him, like ripple in a lake, slightly raised voices turned to hushed whispers, mutters and the subtle sounds of shifting fabric and weapons being checked. The three steps leading up to the entrance had become a stage and Robin the centre of a one man show. Almost forty upturned faces regarded him with every expression from excitement to distrust. And there was Commissioner Gordon front and centre as if she had been expecting him. Her expression was hard to read but whatever it meant it wasn't good.

Then he realized why they were all staring. It wasn't just that there hadn't been a Robin in over 40 years, Batman after all had been back in the city for over a year; Batman however didn't normally stick around. Terry would have probably passed Mad Stan off to someone back on the second floor and disappeared into the shadows, maybe letting himself be seen on a rooftop or flying away at most. If he had been Batman and was sticking around then something important would have been going on.

Why hadn't he had the fragging sense to get out of there when he had the chance?

And why wasn't Gordon doing anything? Couldn't she tell he had no idea what he was doing? Then again he didn't know for certain if she worked with the Bats, it was a strong theory but he didn't have any proof, yet.

He had to do something, and fast before people realized he was making it up as he went along. Superheroes were supposed to have all the answers, be confident and intelligent, Batman (and Robin) maybe above all. So that was how he acted.

Robin smiled at the crowd of cops ignoring what were probably large bruises on a large portion of his visible skin. He strolled down the steps as if he was walking in a summer park, and used the extra time to desperately think of a way out of this situation. He needed to get away from the crowd, to disappear. He wanted to get home and sleep for a week.

As he stopped in front of Gordon it was only by sheer force of will that he maintained his confident act. He hooked his thumbs into his belt and looked up at her.

"Commissioner Gordon." she had to realize he was speaking through his teeth, fighting back the trembling in his hands and knees. "May I have a word?"

There was a slight narrowing of her eyes and Robin couldn't help but feel like a bug being pinned to a board. Her gaze was the single most intense thing he had ever had to endure. He froze waiting for the verdict and quite possibly forgetting to breath in the mean time.

After a length of time that Robin couldn't possibly guess at, she turned away from him and addressed the rest of her people.

"Well, what are you all standing around for? We've got a crime scene to clean up, get to it!"

There was a general call in the affirmative and a lot of people who were suddenly trying to find something to do or somewhere else to be. With Gordon's eyes elsewhere Robin managed to take a breath and quietly look around.

The cops had set up a fairly large scale operation that took up almost half the block. They probably wouldn't have been able to spread out as much if the area had been residential or if it hadn't been almost midnight, but as it was, the result was a bit overwhelming. Robin let that run through the back of his mind for a while and came to am interesting conclusion. Gordon was doing it on purpose; the show of force would reassure people that the cops weren't standing idol after the jail break.

Had that really only been a few days ago? After this adventure it felt more like weeks.

By bringing in Mad Stan with minimal damage a lot of the common people would be supportive, provided they thought it was their own idea. Robin took a moment to wonder how many people would figure it out: probably not many.

Finally Robin's eyes landed on a figure just in front of him. The cop was young, a rookie by the look of it. He seemed to be in his early to mid 20s, had dark gray eyes and medium brown hair, cut short. He was tallish, with the type of build that never gained any weight no matter how much the person in question ate. His skin suggested Italian decent and his features were mostly nondescript apart from a rather pointed chin and slightly turned up nose. At the moment he seemed to be keeping Gordon standing, one hand wrapped around her waist and holding firm to her belt.

He was also staring at Robin. In fact, with the crowd now active he was the only one still staring. Robin was slightly taken aback. It wasn't that he was glaring or anything, there was no anger or disgust in his features, it was just a calm level gaze that happened to be absolutely unwavering.

Before Robin could find a suitable reaction Gordon's attention was back on him. Again she studied him, and her expression was too complicated for him to read, though if he had to guess, it probably wasn't good.

"Follow me." her voice was lower than he expected and sharper than it should have been for such a simple sentence. She turned and somehow managed to lead the way over to a table and piled over with equipment, despite the fact that she was leaning heavily on the young officer. He lowered her into the chair without being asked and stationed himself behind her left shoulder. Robin ignored the nearest chair (which had been hastily vacated by one of the techs) in favor of jumping up to sit on the bumper of the nearest van. Robin pretended not to notice everyone trying to slip away quietly.

"Well?" her posture was perfect, her expression unreadable, her voice as inevitable as the setting sun. This time however, Robin was ready for the force of will the poured off her in waves and managed to stand his ground. At least until he realized she had asked him a question.

Frag, he hadn't thought that far ahead.

Robin pursed his lips and looked from Gordon to the rookie in the hope that something would come to him.

Gordon's eyebrows shifted slightly. "Officer Hawk, you're not hearing this conversation, understand?"

"Understood."

The gravity of the situation settled on his shoulders. Strangely, it didn't feel wrong. It may have been a serious time but Robin had every right to speak to the police commissioner; and that's who he was now, Robin. When had he stopped thinking of himself as Matt? No, it didn't matter. There were more important things to focus on, like what had started him on this whole adventure in the first place.

Robin leaned forward perching on the hood of the van. The mask had stopped sending information across his vision for the moment and in the harsh light from the spotlights everything seemed to stand out in contrast.

"When did you last have contact with Batman?"

The commissioner took a minute before answering. Officer Hawk never took his eyes off Robin, but at that point Robin was more concerned with Gordon. Matt had never been good at reading people but somehow that failed to register at that moment. At that point he wasn't reading her expressions so much as memorizing them for later reference.

Her eyebrows came together. She glanced to the side, then continued the motion, turning her head. New wrinkles appeared over and between her eyes. Her jaw clenched. Her eyes twitched back and forth. On her lap her right hand found the hem of her shirt and ran her nail over the stitching.

"It's important." Robin's voice seemed to be a different element then the rest of him.

At his voice she turned back to him. Her expression fell back into the blank, unreadable range.

"And what makes you think you have the authorization for that information?"

Robin was suddenly acutely aware that although there were only the three of them within easy earshot, he was nevertheless surrounded by cops. That didn't stop him from processing the implications of her words. One of his hands slipped closer to his belt and for a moment he wished he had the cape to hide in, no matter how annoying it was. He picked his words carefully.

"I tried to warn you earlier. When I called, you didn't recognize my name. Over the phone I thought, well, just because I say I'm Robin doesn't mean I'm _The_ Robin. Up until now I've stayed out of sight so there's really no way you could know. At least that's what I thought, now though; there's no way you couldn't know who I am. Everyone in Gotham knows Batman and Robin." He turned his head slightly, knowing that the mask would hide the fact that his eyes were actually still on Gordon. "Am I wrong officer Hawk?"

The young officer was taken aback, he hadn't expected to be drawn into the conversation. He took a breath, then paused. When he spoke it was slowly, rather than letting himself be drawn into speaking without thought.

"I'm not a Gotham native. I grew up in Metropolis, and have only been living here for three years so I'm not the best person to ask. I do know that traditionally Gotham is the territory of Batman who sometimes has a sidekick or apprentice called Robin. In Metropolis we have lots of heroes, but according to tradition, or legend maybe, no one can work in Gotham without Batman's permission. Batman was supposed to have retired before I was born but in the past two years or so, he's come back." he bit the inside of his lip and decided he'd said enough.

Robin was still watching Gordon. "Putting it simply, but basically correct. The Bat family was one of the largest at one time. Not only Robin but Nightwing, Batgirl, Red Robin, Oracle. That was when the first Gordon was Commissioner." At the names Batgirl and Oracle Gordon flinched; by the end of the list she was almost shaking with tension.

"But you already knew that, you were there - weren't you." Double speak was almost too much for him at the moment, but Robin wasn't even sure which pointed statement was the open one and which was secret. The Commissioner's eyes were half lidded and seemed to glow.

It was scary as hell.

"But you don't remember." It was the barest of whispers and Robin hadn't even meant to say it, but no one gets to choose which spark will start the fire.

Gordon was suddenly on her feet despite the numerous bandages and how heavily she had been leaning on officer Hawk earlier.

"I don't care what legacies you claim to be upholding. This is not the age of heroes. This city and it's people are my responsibility, and I for one take that seriously. I will not just roll over for some jokey in a cape, and I will not, WILL NOT, permit a CHILD without even the excuse of superpowers to throw himself into danger In MY CITY."

By the end of her tirade Robin was gripping the van's front rims in order to stay upright. He was silently glad that he had decided to sit, because if he had still been standing his knees would probably have turned to jelly. He was so blown away by the force of her that at first he hardly registered that she had started speaking again.

"You are hereby placed under arrest for the violation of an active crime scene code 4972, interference in a hostage situation code 7661, and interference in an active police negotiation code 6482. As you are a minor you will be escorted down to the precinct where you will be fully briefed on your rights and the severity of your actions. Your parents or guardians will be informed of these events. This will not be happening again." Her last sentence was spoken with a forced calm, as if there was a tide of emotions broiling behind her iron mask.

Robin didn't move. It wasn't that he couldn't move, wasn't in fact paralyzed, oh no. He just made a strategic decision to stay still, yeah, that was totally what it was.

He tried to think, tried to figure a way out of this with his neck and reputation intact, but it was hard. He was exhausted physically and the stress of the evening had hit him somewhere between the second floor and the doors to the mall. His mind did try, but all it really managed was a bit of wishful thinking about how his brothers suit could turn invisible. Actually it was kind of serene, being so tired. If he had had more energy he might have panicked but that seemed too much of an effort at the moment.

As the first minute, then the second, passed in still silence Robin found himself enjoying his role. Stillness and silence weren't tools Terry used all that often but that didn't mean they weren't part of the Batman/Robin arsenal. If he waited, eventually something would give.

That something turned out to be Ian.

After almost four minutes of Gordon and Robin facing each other, Ian broke the silence with a low almost pleading voice. "Commissioner, please, you can't just arrest him, he's Robin. That would be like arresting one of the Green Lanterns. I mean, the first Robin founded the Titans. If you do this the press will have a fit. Technically he has broken the law but he's also the reason we have Mad Stan, and it's not like every active hero on the books hasn't violated a crime scene at some point. That would be using the letter of the law against the spirit. And bringing in his family? That would reveal who he is to the world. It would make him an instant target. It'd be worse than last time, especially since he's a kid." As he spoke he stepped forward around Gordon's now empty chair. He laid one hand on her shoulder and the other on her arm, trying to guide her back to rationality. He didn't move between her and Robin but he did make it harder for her to move forward.

By the time he finished his speech Barbra was turning away. His words had sparked something in the emotions she was suppressing and it was clear her earlier injuries were making it hard to stand.

She whispered a question that solidified the impression Robin was getting. "Last time?"

Officer Hawk nodded slightly, now supporting some of her weight. "When everyone thought Batman had murdered Mad Stan," he glanced over at the mall, "but Spellbinder was really behind it." the words were soft but seemed to carry weight.

Barbara wasn't young anymore, but at that moment she looked even older then she was.

During this little distraction, Robin had not been sitting idle. Earlier, when he had touched his belt, his mask had reacted. He hadn't done more then note the little blip in the corner of his vision at the time, but now he looked a little closer. Sure enough, the icon popped up as soon as he started to open one of the pouches. He spent the first twenty seconds of Ian's rant doing a quick inventory with the mask listing out the contents.

The traditional exit would be to drop a few smoke pellets and grapple away. Unfortunately he had lost the grapple back when he had fallen off the roof, not that he regretted it. He would much rather be without a grapple then be a pile of goop on the pavement. Then of course there was the fact that the bat-mobile was still on the roof and while Batman could call the bat-mobile the Robin suit hadn't been updated in next to forever.

The car was still the most practical choice. It was the middle of the night and he was far enough that walking home would be a bad idea. Not to mention he would probably get unwanted attention walking around in the Robin suit.

No, focus, step one: escape from Gordon, Step two: get to the roof of the mall, step three: get home.

Robin dropped the pellets about the same time Ian finished explaining about Spellbinder. The single flash pellet that accompanied the two smoke pellets lit up the area like a strobe. Robin was already moving, the mask automatically switching to inferred. Gordon wasn't a second behind. She had thrown her arm over her eyes and rather than trying to move, she shouted.

"Stop him!"

Robin was too out of it to register what she said, the wave of sound alone pushed him forward. Not that he was going far. He just needed to get out of sight and wait. The recently created piles of rubble created plenty of hiding spots.

By the time the smoke cleared everyone assumed he was gone and one more dark shape in the pile next to the mall went unnoticed. There was an advantage to using preconceived beliefs against people.

It didn't take Robin too long to get into the building. Now that all the bombs had been taken care of and the perpetrator was in custody the cops were closing things down. There was still plenty of work to do but it was almost universally decided that it could wait until morning. Once the big searchlights were switched off and the street fell back to its normal state of city gloom he was able to creep inside. There were only a few cops left, most of them examining things with scanners, and all of them were on the first floor. He was careful and managed to slip around them without notice.

On the second floor he stopped to retrieve the cape that had been kicked into a corner, and on the fourth he retrieved his grapple. Then he made his weary way up 14 floors worth of stairs to find that the door to the roof was locked. He hadn't used it on his way down.

He leaned his head on the door and just breathed for a while. There were lock picks in the belt but this wasn't an old mechanical lock. In the end he decided 'to hell with it' and broke the door open. It was the option that required the least brainpower.

The car wasn't visible of course, but Robin stumbled around until he ran into it and managed to get the hatch open on the second try. He fell bodily into the front seat and spoke to the auto pilot in a voice that seemed to come from too far away.

"Take me home."

After that he might possibly have passed out.


	17. Chapter 17

Terry hunched into his jacket as he turned onto Fremont. The tail had called in friends, but that wasn't the problem. After the third one showed up he started recognizing them. The gang was known as the Hunt, and generally speaking, they were good.

The group had formed up between five and seven years ago. No one knew exactly when because unlike most gangs they didn't bother to try making a name for themselves. There were nine of them at first; a fact that was only apparent in hindsight. They had slipped into the Gotham nightlife like a pride of lions, selecting their prey and making it disappear. Unlike other gangs they never marked out territory and when a group tried to fight them they became the Hunt's new targets. Soon the other groups had learned to let them be; after all they weren't any competition in the normal sense. That, and smart jackals don't hunt lions.

They had originally been led by a man called Talon, after the scars etched into his left shoulder and back. As a stout black man who looked taller than he was and had shoulders that looked broader then they were, he carried an aura of power around him like a coat.

Then one of their targets turned out to be Victor Kane and somebody got angry. The Kanes were old Gotham money. At one time they had been as prosperous as the Waynes; until Powers had come into the picture and pulled the ground out from under them. Now they were listed somewhere between the tenth and fifteenth richest family in Gotham. That was without counting all the favours and friends they could call in to help.

So when Vic had been chased, literally hunted across most of the city, before ending up in the water beside his own boat, people took notice. Of the nine members of the Hunt, the police had only managed to find three of them. They tried to prosecute but in the end could only put them away for something crazy like tax evasion, and that was only two of the three. Talon had been one of the two. Barbara had not been pleased, to say the least.

A younger man had taken over then, one with a mixed heritage that showed in the color of his skin and his mixed features. Supposedly he had white eyes, or light gray, or light blue, he always hid them behind a pair of yellow-orange sunglasses so the stories were mixed. He kept his hair in dreadlocks that had been bleached or spliced blond. Together his features and main of hair earned him the nickname Leo. Or maybe that actually was his real name, who could tell.

Terry paused in front of a 24-hour convenience store and racked his brains trying to remember where he had learned all that. It had been happening more and more lately: random information popping into his head, taking steps he hadn't consciously thought about, looking for things or checking them, for no reason other than he thought he should. A habit he couldn't remember the source of. At first he had just set it aside, thinking he would remember or that he had been mistaken, but the more it happened the more it didn't seem like that was the case. Not that all his knowledge came from these mysterious memories. He had had his run in's with The Hunt before. That had been about four years ago, just before high school.

It was before he had hooked up with Dana. Early August had sent the city into a heat wave. Keeping everyone inside the comfort of air conditioned buildings until the night took the edge off the heat. He had first seen the two of them drinking ice tea at an outdoor cafe as the red evening set in. Vixen and Doe: sisters in the ways that mattered if not by blood. Vixen was the elder by several years. She looked like a college student with her red hair tied up carelessly and her GCU t-shirt failing to hide the straps of what looked like a lacy purple bra. She was the dangerous one, she was also way out of the league of a cocky fifteen year old, and she knew it. Doe on the other hand was a blond in a white blouse with silver gray eyes and a hesitant smile; and she was only about two years older then Terry.

There was no way it could end well.

The Hunt had played that game before, using bait to find the right targets. Back then, it had been close, someone more interesting had come along and they had turned their attention away. But that hadn't been until after Terry had made his move. Apparently Vixen had a long memory.

In the reflection of the shop window Terry counted two more that he hadn't yet seen. Six of them then. Or, at least six, there were 13 or 14 current members so six sounded about right for one of their hunts. They were probably working to surround him, try to herd him, scare him, panic him into making mistakes. There was something thrilling about being pushed to extremes, being forced to pull out all the stops, and win victory by the skin of his teeth. The adrenalin and the pain from a punch to the gut, mixed with the scent and even taste of blood from past fights were fresh in his mind.

The Hunt wouldn't give him time. Other gangs would be cocky or just plain stupid; he would have been able to parade them around the city before they even noticed he was pulling their strings. This lot was smarter than that. They wouldn't let him slip up, if he did, he was dead. They most likely already knew he was watching. That was his first advantage nullified. And they had met before; they knew him, or at least his reputation. His information was hearsay and rumour, that and a voice that insisted on whispering in the back of his mind (Oddly enough that voice had started to sound like Wayne) which meant in the end they knew quite a bit more than he did.

He wasn't half way through the first half and he was already down two and outnumbered on top of it. Good thing he had the home field advantage.

He slipped sideways without warning and quickened his pace down a ally that had been narrow before someone had stacked all the orange crates against the wall. He came out in a small parking lot, sprinted across it and slipped into another crack between buildings. This one was full of old and overgrown bushes that had somehow managed to survive years after the buildings next to them had been abandoned. After the first series of sharp snaps he jumped up over the shrubbery, kicked off one wall and launched himself into a roll.

Terry landed on a patch of brown moss that might once have been a lawn. It was about two feet wide and stretched beside what had been a short row of apartments. He paused, listening. His patch of grass was on one side of a square in the centre of the old complex. Apart from the main entrance on the far side, the only ways in were the gap he had used and a parallel one directly ahead of him. The buildings all around were two stories with tall pointed roofs that stretched up another half story. The only way up to the second story was here inside the square. Beside Terry two swings shifted on rusted chains next to a slide that looked like it would fall over in a stiff wind. The ground was open enough to move without giving his enemies room to surround him. Better yet, if they wanted to get to him at all they would have to come through the front door, or be caught in the noisy bushes just as he had been.

They may have been good, but this was his city. Like it or not they were now playing by his rules.

Four of them came through the single beam of light outside the main entry. They were silent and moved in a coordination fashion that came from knowing someone, not just working with them. They weren't walking parallel but they all had a clean line of sight. The two others would be waiting for a good moment then; he would have to make sure to deny them.

As the four came closer he was able to make out features in the gloom, and the whisper provided profiles on each. Tiny was on the far left, yes he actually went by Tiny. He looked like a Tiny too with the big hulking frame that made him look a troll without two brain cells to rub together. That wasn't the case. According to one story he had once convinced an entire group of Jokerz that he was the son of Giganta and The Atom. He had then told them a tortured story of being torn between good and evil and how none of the heroes had known about him so none of them had ever given him a chance. The story had gone on for two hours and by the end half of the Jokerz were in tears. The other half had been quietly knocked unconscious by his partner.

Tiny's partner was a guy called Fix. Fix was average in pretty much everything, except, he carried a hammer. It wasn't a gigantic sledge hammer or an energy hammer or anything, just a plain old wood and steel pounding implement. Only Fix was the kind of guy who was constantly talking, and almost as constantly lying. The story of how he got the hammer had been heard by everyone who would listen and half the people wouldn't, and none of them had got the same story. Not to mention all the stories of what he had done with the hammer, and what he could do with the hammer given a chance. If not for the fact that he ran around with Tiny he would have been beaten to a fleshy bag of pudding by now for annoying the wrong person; or maybe he wouldn't have, some of those stories might, hell, probably were, true. Currently the implement in question was hooked through Fix's waistband like a sixgun in a western.

On Fix's other side was Persephone. Perse was the third and last female member of the Hunt. After the incident with Vic, the local dregs had tried to get on the Hunt's good side. The Hunt had declared it a free for all and whoever got the most points won. Perse hadn't been a member at the time. That hadn't stopped her from winning. At some point in her past she had picked up several augments. She wore special pants with slits up the back of her legs so she could use the curved metal bows on her calves that gave boosts to her speed and let her jump over vans length wise. She also had mettle plates covering her hands like gloves, no razor fingernails or anything just steel gloves that could compact a soda can down to the size of a thimble.

The last member of the oncoming troupe was the only one Terry couldn't put a name to. He was a splicer with eyes that were red rimmed and sand colored skin and scales over the back of his neck and shoulders. There were two ridges of bone extending like horns from points halfway between his eyes and his temples. A reptile, but not a snake, more likely a desert lizard or one of those really ugly toads.

That left two others, Leo and one unknown, somewhere in the surrounding area. Together they would take him apart. His best chance was to take out the heavy hitters, Perse and Tiny, fast. The lizard guy would probably have good stamina, but was mostly an unknown. Fix might be trouble if he could team up with one of the others, flanking would be a major problem.

Terry took it in stride. He wasn't the type to calculate the odds, planning out each move, trying to guess each reaction. There were other ways to fight, and before any martial arts Terry had trained in the school of Cheep talk and hard knocks.

"Come on, you trying to intimidate me by walking slow?" Terry raised his voice a few octaves and brought up an overdramatic hand. "Oh it's dark, the big bad hunters are gonna come get me." he settled back on his heals and his hands naturally fell to points just behind his hips. The thought 'no belt' flashed through his mind before he pushed it away. Big puzzle later, fight now. "Honestly guys did you have to be that obvious? I mean aren't hunters supposed to quiet and unseen and all that? You might as well have called me up and made an appointment." this time he put on a polite falsetto and mimed holding a phone. "I'm sorry, Mr. McGinnis has a prior engagement at 9:00 but I can put you down for 10:40."

Fix had drawn the hammer from his belt and the lizard man was growling or something, the closest thing Terry could compare the sound to was a slightly muted garbage disposal.

"The Terrible Hunt, predators of the concrete jungle, you'd be harder to find if you were wearing striped shirts."

Fix snapped "Don't need a bear trap to catch a rabbit dreg, sides you ain't worth the time. This just a favor for Vixen, she still pissed at you." he was grinning through the last bit.

"Oh I get it, you'll hunt strangers, but people who piss you off, stand up to you, get a lot of hot air, good to know." Fix wasn't grinning anymore. Terry noted it and kept right on going. "Guess I should tell my friends then huh? Open season for anyone who doesn't mind a bit of wind, pity you've only got the two girls who have anything in the looks department." he turned his attention to Perse making an obvious show of sizing her up. "does that even count as a she or is it an it?"

Terry had figured that anyone who had killed as often as Perse had (at least according to the whisper) wouldn't hesitate to do so again. He had also figured that with such obvious augments it might be a touchy subject. He had played the female card too, just to be safe. What he hadn't counted on was the speed of her reaction. She must have been balanced like a racer, just waiting for the signal.

Before he had finished the sentence she had launched herself forward at an angle to doge the swings. Terry moved at almost the same time as she kicked off aiming for his neck.

That saying, 'time slowed down,' it was wrong. Time never slowed down for Terry during a fight, not before and not this time. Instead, his perceptions heightened. He could see more, and understand it faster as if he had been given a temporary shot of super speed. Not that he needed to think, fast or otherwise. Fighting was about reflex, no thinking required.

The moment she had charged him he had relaxed, falling into a lower stance. He slid to his right getting off the line. Her charge was more of a jump then a run, at that speed and in the air she couldn't correct her course. His hands came up grabbing her shirt and yanking her down onto his raised knee. She twisted away, one hand finding his leg and clawing at it. Pain shot through his thigh, and he jerked in response. She landed on the ground on her back and the wind was pushed from her lungs. It wasn't enough; with five other potential enemies Terry had to make sure she was out of the game. His leg came around and up, then dropped in an Ax kick that was designed to break bones.

Ok so maybe there was something to be said for martial arts.

She may have been winded but she had the strength to grab his ankle and pull. His balance slipped and he came down planting his hands and flipping back to his feet as she rolled through the space where he had been standing. He pivoted on the balls of his feet before being forced to duck under a punch Tiny had aimed at his head. The others had closed in.

Terry tried to sidestep while keeping the downed Perse in sight. Lizard man was between him and Perse now and somehow Terry had gotten turned around; his back was no longer to the building, instead he faced the side of the central square which left him open to... he turned, glanced over his shoulder then let loose with a straight back kick. Fix had barely been in range, hammer held out and ready, the kick connected with the centre of his mass and pushed him back a few feet, but did no further damage. Tiny's fist connected with his back in a heavy downward blow.

The pain was red, covering his vision in a dull wash that removed any other color from the landscape. For a second his knees locked up, and then he forced himself to go with the blow and avoid the worst of the damage. There was blood in his mouth, at some point he had bit his cheek. He spit it out and contemptuously looked up. Tiny and Fix were both above him, Tiny a mass of immovable flesh, Fix sneering and bouncing his hammer on one shoulder.

"What, nothing to say McGinnis? Done already? All that talk and you can't get past the first punch. Come on, that can't be it."

Terry knew a good set up line when he heard one.

His foot connected with the side of Fix's knee and there was a sub-audible crack that had Fix crumpling to the ground. Terry pushed himself into a forward roll taking advantage of the momentary gap, and came back to his feet a yard away. Fix was clutching at his leg and cursing like a sailor, not that Terry had ever heard a sailor curse but considering the words Fix was using he doubted a sailor could be any worse. The lizard man stepped forward silent as he had been through the whole ordeal. Tiny took a look at Fix, judging his injuries. They all knew Fix was out of this game, at the very least something had been fractured, there was no blood but that could almost make an injury worse, especially if the extent of it was underestimated. He probably wouldn't be able to walk without a limp for weeks let alone participate here and now. Tiny decided to take it personally.

He charged, one hand trying for a grab while the other curled into a fist and connected with a spot two inches below Terry's color bone. Terry gritted his teeth and pushed back the pain, ignoring the punch in favor of the hand that had clamped onto his left shoulder. A half step prevented Tiny from taking a second punch. Terry's right hand slid down Tiny's arm, this thumb finding the notch between the third and forth knuckle of his enemy's hand. A shift of weight and a twist of his wrist forced Tiny to his knees crying out in pain as his wrist, elbow and shoulder joins were all locked.

Terry kept up the slight pressure necessary to keep the lock. He was panting slightly and he couldn't afford to lose track of the others. Given a free minute he could dislocate Tiny's shoulder, break his wrist, or pin him to the ground without doing any major damage. Somehow he didn't see that last one happening. To do any of those things he would need a second or two though, (well, maybe not the shoulder,) and he wasn't sure he would get it. Perse was back on her feet and the lizard had circled him so they could come at him from two angles.

Na-na Na-na Na-na Na-na – – – Na-na Na-na Na-na Na-na

Terry figured it was probably accurate to say they were struck dumb. Of course he was only slightly less surprised.

"Sorry, I think that's mine." Terry kept the pin with one hand, slipping his phone over his ear with the other. "McGinnis," he listened, still watching his opponents, "Really? Any damage?" Lizard started to take another step but Terry shot him a glare that made him shrink back. "Shway," Terry was grinning now. It came through as a dark thrill in his voice. "Fine by me, I've got a few things to clean up at my end anyway." he touched the button to end the call and turned his full attention back to the others.

Terry didn't know if it was the good news or just that his blood was pounding in his ears and the pain was singing through his mind, sharpening it to a dangerous edge, but something had changed. There had been fear at the beginning, rational fear made clear by the odds and past, but not anymore. He didn't just think he could beet them, probably, now he knew he could take them down. They were good, for a street gang, but that was all they were. The voice in his head was whispering that he had taken down twice as many people with ease, that he had faced off against legends and made them crawl away like beaten dogs. It didn't matter that he couldn't remember the specifics; They were the ones who were out of their league.

"So, you don't mind if I end this quickly, right? Places to be, all that." Terry's voice was calm almost lazy. He didn't question why it had come out almost two octaves lower then how he normally spoke.

Before they could react Terry used his free hand to rotate Tiny's elbow, forcing his arm from it's socket. Terry kicked him away, ignoring the cries of pain, and turned bringing the fight to the Lizard before he, or Perse, could fully react. The lizard blocked Terry's first attack: a punch aimed at his face, but didn't anticipate the follow up knee to the groin. Terry pulled his head down and the crunch from the lizard man's nose connecting with his other knee was all Terry needed to know that this opponent would be out of the fight for long enough for him to finish it.

He turned to the oncoming Perse and pushed the Lizard away carelessly. She had learned from their first clash and came at him slightly slower. Her polished metal hands were reaching out to catch at any part of him that she could crush. He came at her, not bothering to get off to one side. His arms came up her centre line forcing her arms to each side. She tried to pull back grabbing his wrists, expecting a punch. Instead he brought his arms around in a circle twisting out of her grasp and pinning her arms under his own. She had enough time to look up at him before he delivered his next strike, a head butt fit to break the scull. Terry could feel the impact ripple through her locking up joints. He hooked one foot behind her forward ankle and used it to send her to the ground.

He stood, looking down at her, waiting for her to just try to get up, but she was out for good this time. It would be an hour at least before she woke up and even then she'd probably have a terrible headache. He turned to the others. Tiny was the only one who might have given him trouble, even with the dislocated shoulder he might have been a threat if Terry hadn't taken out the others. It had all been so fast what had it seemed like, looking from the outside? Had he looked too fast to be human? Too strong? Had he looked like a shadow there in the gloom, just a dark brown jacket and sharp eyes? Terry found he liked the idea, though he had to wonder what had started that line of thought.

Then he heard the growl. He turned back to the entrance of the complex. Leo and Vixen were there, Vixen literally growling at him while Leo surveyed the battlefield. Their eyes met, locking in the challenge that stood between them. Terry moved three passes to his left, so the remains of the slide wouldn't get in the way of a charge. Leo took note of the move then stepped aside.

"What? You're just going to let him leave?" Vixen was clearly not happy with the idea.

"You know the code, hunt or hunted. He's proven he's not prey... for the moment."

Terry stuck his hands back in his pockets, he was almost disappointed, but he didn't let it show. The rush was beginning to fade. He knew he probably had injuries he didn't even know about yet. Better to leave while he could still look cool doing it, besides he still had a little brother who needed a talking to. 

* * *

All martial arts used here are based off real moves; The Ax kick, back kick and makgi were taken from Tae Kwon Do, Nikyo (used on Tiny) is from Aikido with general brawling moves thrown in throughout. I study Aikido, the rest is from my brother who has a black belt in Tae Kwan Do. Since it's one of my pet peeves that people who put martial arts in books and fics don't do research I thought I'd set a good example.

Also you'll get to hear the other half of Terry's phone call in the next chapter.

Thank you to girl1213, JimmyCandlestick, Harm Marie, Onba, V, Crazy-fish, and Lenorathetrekkie for your wonderful reviews they honestly do make me write faster.

And thank you to my wonderful Beta Rose.


	18. Chapter 18

It wasn't the landing that woke Robin, because that had been almost imperceptible. The base thrumming of the engine was almost a comfort until it sank to a stop. Then the silence settled in and even as exhausted as he was, Robin noticed.

Gotham was like any city and Robin had lived there his whole life. The sound of distant sirens, car horns, people talking, radios playing a hundred types of music, even down to the rhythm of traffic and a hundred thousand footsteps, they were the pulse of the city. Robin was attuned to it; he had never known anything else. Cut off from that it was like the silence of the grave.

He elbowed his way upright in the Batmobile's seat. The silence made him shiver until he managed to focus enough to actually listen. It was faint, but there were sounds, water dripping, a distant thrum of a generator, a soft squeaking and rustling from above. Then he knew, even in the dark where he must be.

There was nowhere else like it.

The car had powered down, but Robin hit the latch and soon the floor lighting was once more illuminating the bat-cave. Robin leaned on the car and spoke to the general area.

"When I'm in charge your AI is getting a major upgrade."

The cave responded to his voice by switching on a few overhead lights and switching on the computer to show Terry's logo spinning on the centre screen.

"Don't try to butter me up now, it's not gonna work." Robin stumbled a few feet forward and pointed at the computer. "You are trouble. I mean if it wasn't for you I would probably be back home and dreaming about being Robin-" he trailed off as he realized just how convoluted his logic had become. For a moment he rested his head on the chair in front of the computer. The mask began cutting into the bridge of his nose after a moment and he sat up to rip the annoying thing off. It was quickly followed by the gloves, belt and vest. The black undershirt and tights felt twenty times lighter without all the extra armor.

He took a few slow breaths and tried to collect his thoughts. Now that he was here, he should return the Robin costume, even if he didn't want to. They would know of course, that Robin had been out around town, so there wasn't really much point in trying to put it back in the case like it had been. Except then it would be majorly obvious, and there would be evidence, fingerprints and skin and everything to point strait at him. Not that a stolen suit found stuffed in the back of his closet would be any better.

"Come on, think."

A _click_ behind him, and a low growl provided a more immediate problem. Wayne's big black dog was standing between him and the car. Matt had never seen Ace before, but that didn't stop him from recognizing the creature Terry had described on multiple occasions. It had taken months for Terry to win his way into the dog's good spirits, and even then it was more like he was tolerated rather than liked.

Ace took a step forward, claws tapping on the stone in an uneven accompaniment to the growl and Matt's quickly elevating heart rate. Matt raised his hands taking a steadying breath and speaking calmly.

"It's OK Ace, I'm one of the good guys. I'm Terry's brother. Everything is OK." he had heard that tone was important when speaking with animals but apart from a few fish back in 3rd grade Matt had never really had any pets. Apparently that kind of thing didn't work on Batman's dog though because Ace just showed his teeth a bit more and kept on growling. Matt couldn't help but take a step back.

Ace continued his press, forcing him back until he nearly tripped over the stairs. Matt fell back and ended up sitting on the third step of the dark staircase. He turned looking up the stairs and even in his currently exhausted state he could imagine where they led. And the trouble at the end of them.

"Oh no, I can't go up there. I need to go home, not get into more trouble." Matt pushed himself to his feet and tried to edge sideways around the shadowy mass of teeth. Ace showed his displeasure in a bark that echoed back from unseen cave walls. Looking at Ace Matt somehow knew it wasn't going to happen. He looked at the stairs, then at the car, then to the dog and back to the stairs.

Ace apparently decided Matt was taking too long because he barked again and his growl rose in volume a notch or two. Matt raised his hands and tried not to flinch. Ace had his ears laid back along his skull and the step he took was a deliberate gesture. Smart dog, scary but smart.

"Ok, ok I get it, I'm going." Matt kept his hands raised as if it was a gun rather than teeth that he was being threatened with. He half turned so he could see where he was going and still keep one eye on the dog. "You know, all those things Terry said about you, he was right. You are a crazy dog." Ace just kept growling and snapped at Matt when he thought he was taking too long.

Matt stumbled up the last few stairs. "Ok, Going, nice dog, good dog."

"Not really."

Matt stopped dead. The voice alone had sent a chill through him, and he had no doubt who it belonged to. Ace had stopped growling but his teeth were still bared. Matt kept his hands raised as he slowly turned to look over one shoulder.

Bruce Wayne stood backlit in the doorway to the hall. His shadow stretched out from his feet seemingly covering the whole room. As he took a single step the sound of his cane on the old wood floor had more impact than any sound Matt had ever heard.

Earlier he had thought Gordon was intimidating, but Wayne did more in the three steps it took him to stand before Matt then she had done the entire time. She had been fire barely contained within an iron will, dangerous, but mostly in the short term. He was the man who contained that fire, had been burn too many times because of it. Wayne was colder, and the look he gave outlined the complete inevitability of the situation. His questions would be answered; delaying would be like trying to stop the sun from setting, and just about as pointless. Anyone who thought that Batman didn't know magic had never been in Matt's position, because as far as he was concerned, there was no way any normal person could do whatever it was that Wayne was doing by just standing there.

Wayne looked him up and down slowly. He took in the open clock and the dog, and then fixed Matt with his unwavering gaze. Slowly he lifted the tip of his cane until it hovered a whisper away from Matt's breast bone. Matt tried to swallow but found that his mouth was too dry. The cane then swung around to point at the couch in the centre of the room.

"Sit."

Matt did so.

Wayne took four slow steps to his desk without taking his eyes off the boy. Still without looking he hit three keys on the phone built into the desk and a moment later an automated ringing emerged from the recessed speakers. Matt would have recognized the voice that answered immediately even if his brother hadn't given his name.

"McGinnis"

"Terry, I've just found Ace hassling your brother." the miniature smile that accompanied his words could possibly be described as evil and definitely be described as terrifying.

"Really? Any damage?" Was Terry breathing harder than normal? The taunt in his words seemed to have a different cadence; one Matt couldn't quite connect to his brother or Batman.

"Nothing permanent." Oh god did he have to say it like _that_.

"Shway." There was definitely something darker in Terry's tones.

"I was thinking of asking him a few questions before I bring him home." That might have been a good sentence if the intonation hadn't suggested home just might be his grave or some other sinister location.

"Fine by me, I've got a few things to clean up at my end."

Matt caught his breath as Terry cut off the connection. Had he...? In his mind Matt replayed the conversation, then just the last line. A smile began to spread over his face.

"Batman. That was Terry's Batman voice." He looked up, excited, and found Mr. Wayne's steady gaze. His smile faltered. Slowly, he realized just what it was that he had said. If he knew Terry's Batman voice, then he knew Terry was Batman and moreover, could recognize when he was being Batman by voice alone. That would mean that he had not only heard the voice before, but heard it multiple times, which would have taken time. Add that to what Mr. Wayne would find down in the cave and he was toast. Of course, he was probably toasted anyway.

Wayne leaned forward planting his cane directly in front of him. "Tell me everything."

* * *

When Wayne had first seen Matt backing out of the clock his first thought hadn't been to wonder how he was coming out of the wall or why there was a passage in the wall of his study, it was more along the lines of _'how did Matt get all the way out here from Terry's apartment?'_. He had pondered that thought for several moments before he had caught the cadence of Matt's words. When he had stepped forward it had been with the idea of reprimanding Matt for all the trouble he had caused Terry, and for somehow sneaking into his house. Most of Wayne manor was closed off these days and he had no doubt that Matt could find plenty of trouble to get into. Then he had seen the condition the boy was in.

First of all Matt was wearing black leggings and a skin tight t-shirt made out of a complex silk weave with built in refractive plates. Bruce remembered when his company had first come up with it: the SLC Snakeskin. Designed to provide a layer of protection without hindering movement, it had eventually been scrapped, like so many other projects, because the cost of production would have been too high. Less than 500 yards of the fabric had ever been created.

Then there were the patches of bruised skin on his arms and the layer of grime on his face that mysteriously cut off around his eyes. The boy was also trembling. Partly from fear of punishment now that he had been discovered, but mostly it seemed to be from exhaustion. He was dead on his feet and just didn't know it yet. As soon as he took a second to relax he would be out like a light; Bruce had seen it before. Although where avoided him. Something had happened tonight that Matt hadn't been ready for.

Bruce told the boy to sit and called Terry; which was when Matt surprised him for a second time.

"Batman." The single word struck to the heart of Bruce Wayne. The image it summoned was so elemental, full of secrets and dark power. Somehow it fit in his mind, a word spoken so many times it becomes second nature like writing his own name to him.

Then the rest of the sentence caught up with him. "That was Terry's Batman voice." and Matt's face went from joyous relief to scared realization. There was something taboo in what he had said, or almost said, and it was important. Bruce needed to hear whatever it was he hadn't said.

"Tell me everything."

Matt started by saying it wasn't his fault. He went on to say he hadn't planned on any of it, that 'it had just kind of happened' Wayne figured any story that started like that was going to end up messy. Matt stumbled over finding the Batsuit and ending up in the cave. He hadn't meant to get involved in the whole thing with the mall but Gordon hadn't listened. Wayne made a mental note to check that.

Then he had ended up in the building and there was really nothing he could do but try to help. Matt stumbled over his descriptions as if even he wasn't sure of events; jumping back and forward in his story as he tried to remember the details. Wayne had to remind himself that the boy wasn't being unclear on purpose, that these kinds of events were confusing and overwhelming, even more so because the boy had never done anything like this before.

Matt told how Gordon's men arrived and everyone saw him. Gordon had tried to arrest him, but in the end he had managed to get away. By that point Matt was having trouble putting together coherent sentences. Bruce listened, taking in the information without questioning it. There were too many things screaming for his attention. Trying to fit them all together while there were still pieces he hadn't looked at wouldn't help.

When the boy finally drifted to a stop he looked like he could fall asleep any second. Wayne pushed himself to his feet from where he had settled across from Matt.

"Stay here." he doubted Matt would try anything but he gave Ace the signal to watch him in any case. Matt just nodded and sank a few inches lower into the cushions.

Batman, the boy hadn't said it but it was easy to infer several pieces of information. First of all, Batman had been around for a long time. Terry was acting as Batman now but the character must have first appeared before even the Justice League. From the way Matt had talked about Robin, Bruce could begin to piece together a timeline. He was the real Batman, and one of his sons had been Robin, if not all taking on the title one after the other, like Terry. It made sense after what had happened with his parents; he had struck back by creating a legend. That legend couldn't be allowed to die even though the man under the mask got old, so he had passed the name on. It explained quite a bit of his own findings.

But if it was true, why couldn't he remember it? He needed confirmation, facts that his mind couldn't dismiss as a child's imagination.

He turned to the old grandfather clock that still sat, slowly ticking away next to a hole in the wall that had never been there before. He didn't hesitate as he stepped forward into the dark. The stairs fit his stride. He never touched the walls of the passage despite how it turned and twisted. How many times had he walked this way? How many hundreds of times had he placed his feet on a single one of these steps to have it so ingrained.

The air was damp in the cave, a cool touch that brought the scents of water and earth. The chair in front of the computer had been custom made; he settled into it and for a moment everything was as it should be.

Except, he still couldn't remember, and there had to be a reason for that. Well, if he had been a person like Batman, and all signs pointed to that being the case, then he would have had safeguards.

"Computer, access security protocols."

The large bat logo on the screen vanished to be replaced by a login screen. He let his fingers run over the keys and the password was accepted, despite the fact that he didn't even know what he had typed. A list of files appeared numbering in the thousands.

"Limit to files pertaining to memory loss."

5 files.

He skimmed and found what he was looking for in the second file.

**13354:2**

In the case memory loss that does not involve any media coverage this system is set to alert others with the knowledge after a set amount of time. Timer to be reset at login.

**13354:2.2**

In this case it is possible memory may return when provided with evidence. If that is not the case refer to archives for summery files on past events. Further extrapolation is impossible given the number of unknowns.

Bruce looked at the files, the more recent dates matched with the empty sections of his memory. He turned his chair to look over the cave as a whole. He recognized the bat-mobile as the vehicle he had seen earlier that night. The trophies in their cases, the giant penny, the mechanical dinosaur. There were probably stories that went along with each of them, important battles won and lost. He waited. Logically he had no doubt that this was the truth, but even so his mind wouldn't unveil the memories he thought were there. That left him with limited options and one all important question. What was the root cause?

Bruce pushed himself up from his chair. It looked like he had a long night ahead of him, but there was one thing he had to take care of first. He retraced his steps back up the stairs. Matt was asleep on the couch where he had left him. He looked younger when asleep, small as he was. Bruce ran one hand through the boy's hair, brushing it back away from his face instinctively before moving the hand to Matt's shoulder and shaking him genitally.

"Wake up. Time to go home."

* * *

Terry waited on the corner by his apartment. He had already called ahead and told Max that Matt had been found. He could have waited inside with her, it wasn't as if he couldn't watch for Wayne's car from up there, but something kept him on the street. Maybe it was the fight or the fact that he could feel the bruises coloring his skin, or maybe it was just that tonight felt different. These past few days something had been off. Now, it wasn't that it felt right so much as it felt closer to the truth to have him out here rather then in the bright apartment.

It made no sense, but there it was.

The car Wayne had chosen to drive was one of the older ones. It was unpolished chrome and completely unremarkable, one of several cars Wayne owned that could not possibly have belonged to a multi-billionaire. Terry nodded as he drove past, circling the building and eventually pulling to a stop in the service entrance. Terry followed, coming around the corner as Wayne was stepping out of his car.

A yellow light from somewhere on the third floor was the only replacement for the broken street light, not that was ever truly dark in the heart of the city. The two men nodded to each other.

"Matt?" Terry kept his voice low. It wasn't like he thought there was anyone around, it just seemed like the thing to do.

"Back seat, asleep. From his account he's had quite a night."

"Seems like that's been going around. Any idea how he got up to the manor?"

"A few,"

Terry waited but Bruce just turned taking in the area as if it wasn't just another pocket between buildings. "Well?"

Bruce turned back, settling his cane in his hand. "Batman." he paused, possibly for effect possibly just to make sure he had Terry's full focus. It wasn't necessary. The single word was a thrill down Terry's spine "Ring any bells?"

"...no."

"You hesitated."

"Yeah."

"The last few days."

Terry saw where he was going. "Everything's been off, the little stuff, it doesn't add up."

"I think I may have found the reason."

Terry rocked back on his heals and looked at the older figure. "You're not going to tell me are you?"

"Not here. Take Matt inside, I'll call."

Terry took in a breath like he was scenting the air, then nodded. Wayne got back behind the wheel and drove off as soon as Terry had taken the limp form of his brother from the back seat.

Terry winced once he got inside and could take a proper look at Matt. Amazingly his strange outfit seemed to have prevented some of the worst damage but his arms were covered in odd colors and there was a cut on the back of his scalp. Not that Terry looked much better. Perse had had gotten her hands on him more then once in that fight. There were finger shaped bruises on his wrists, upper arms and one shoulder. Tiny had also done his fair share of damage contributing the odd patches of color on his chest and between his shoulder blades. They both needed to be looked at by someone who knew what they were doing, but for now Max would have to do.

Terry hit the buzzer with his elbow since he couldn't open the door with Matt in his arms. Max took one look at the two of them and huffed out a breath that was somewhere between relief and exasperation.

"You don't do anything small, do you?"

"Now where would be the fun in that? You gonna let me in?"

She rolled her eyes and went to get the first aid kit leaving Terry to close the door behind him. He laid Matt down on the couch as gently as he could and looked around.

"Mom home?" he asked noting the empty and table by the door where his mom normally dropped her keys and the lack of threatening objects pointing in his general direction.

"She called," Max answered backing through the doorway carrying the industrial size med kit his mom kept in the hall closet in both arms. "Said the hospital called in extra hands to help with some big explosion down town."

"You tell her?" he nodded at Matt.

"Do I look suicidal? I told her Matt was asleep, of course I didn't know he'd be in such bad shape. You said Wayne found him?" Terry hmmed an affirmative. "Then how on earth did he end up like this?"

"Tell you when I find out."

"What are you gonna tell your mom, you know so we have our stories strait."

"Nothing."

"Nothing? McGinnis I don't know if you can comprehend this but those bruises are what we call evidence." she had one hand on her hip and the other waving through the air but she managed to keep her voice at just above a whisper for Matts sake.

Terry had been sitting with his elbows on his knees, now he pushed himself up and crossed to his room. "Which is why," he came back out holding a what looked like a bottle of nail polish remover. "they are going to be completely gone by mourning."

Max sat back and crossed her arms. "Oh this should be good."

"What, it's an ancient herbal mixture from China or Tibet or someplace. A poultice with this will stop the swelling and stuff. Tenaga gave it to me a while back."

"She the one who made you drink eel juice?"

"Well yeah."

"Mmmm humm. You know McGinnis, it is lucky you look so pitiful right now because otherwise I might not be convinced to help you."

"Lucky me, hand me those bandages."

She did.

* * *

Chapter 18

Thank you to Rose for being my Beta.

Thank you too everyone who reviewed. I would list all the names but at the moment I'm too asleep to think properly. You know who you are and how awesome that makes you.


	19. Chapter 19

Matt woke up stiff with the smell of garlic in his nose. The alarm beside his bed was blaring its annoying triple signal. Habit swung his arm over to his bedside table despite the fact that he was clearly too sore to move. He looked at the clock trying to figure out what was wrong. Batman, something about Batman, and Robin, but that had been something else. Why was there garlic? Footsteps outside his door made him look up.

Two sharp knocks accompanied his mom's voice, "Matt, time to get up. Breakfast in ten." Matt relaxed and found himself flopping back onto his side as her footsteps announced her departure.

He was in his room. He couldn't remember how he got home or who had switched out the black under-armor for one of Terry's old T-shirts. The last thing he could clearly remember was talking to Mr. Wayne, and to be fair even that was fuzzy.

Other parts weren't. Falling off the building only to go crashing through the window. The way the building had raced by beside him and the people below stood around like dolls. The way everything in the building was so dark and the lights that were there were so harsh, cutting sharp.

It was so different there in his room he could have almost believed the whole thing had been a dream, a fantasy that his mind had grabbed ahold of at the edge of sleep. The surrealness of the situation was only heightened by the fact that there was no evidence. He was stiff and a bit sore but not more so then if he had been playing a heated game of soccer. The bruises that should have been on his arms and legs were gone, or had simply never manifested. Then there were the clothes; he should have still had the black under-armor from the Robin suit, but it simply wasn't there. He tried to figure out how it might have happened but his head only managed to run around in circles.

He went through his routine in a daze. He marveled at each ordinary object and the complete lack of visual difference in his world. Last night he had flown over the city as Robin, and yet there in his family's apartment Matt was the same twip he'd been the day, week, month before. It was as if he had fallen down the rabbit hole and found himself in his own home.

He managed to tear himself away from his mirror after staring into his reflection for a good four minutes, expecting to see a change each time he blinked. He headed for the kitchen. Terry brushed past him as he reached it, a piece of toast sticking out of his mouth and his backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Wayne said he'd need me late today," he called over one shoulder before glancing at Matt, "Later twip." Then he was gone. It was such a normal occurrence it stopped Matt in his tracks. His mind, the part of it that was still working, ran through half a dozen possibilities and not one of them seemed to make any sense. A few of them like the 'I've somehow gone back in time' option were so out there he wondered if he hadn't imagined the whole thing.

His mom's voice beckoned him into the kitchen where a plate of waffles were waiting for him. Waffles, how ridiculous could it get. The news bytes his mom kept playing mocked him from the other side of the room.

Apparently Mad Stan had ripped up a good section of the ground floor of the rainbow mall. The police had countered with a total of 8 injured and 1 dead in his initial explosion. Within the hour they had captured him and he had been transferred successfully to Blackgate (which was still being repaired). There were rumors of another figure assisting and though most assumed it was Batman at least one witness (Matt suspected it was Dan) claimed Robin had been there. Most of the press didn't seem to believe it, and apparently Gordon had managed to keep her people mostly quiet, so it wasn't taken very seriously.

Maybe that was better though. Maybe he wouldn't get in as much trouble that way. It was kind of appropriate considering he was a member of the Bat family. Matt grinned at that thought.

He managed to retain a level of optimism until he reached the bus. That was where the feelings of overwhelming strangeness engulfed him once more. No one knew. His peers were more interested in vid-games then the latest news bytes. Even Josh, his best friend was oblivious. In the past he hadn't cared but now Matt just wanted to tell someone. He wanted someone to acknowledge the change, some outside force who he knew and trusted.

Even the teachers hadn't really noticed, though that may not have been surprising considering this was Gotham. A building blew up practically every night, one more wasn't really any news especially when there wasn't any good footage of explosions. Considering that no one was taking it seriously did it still count as his premier?

First period spanish had them discussing verbs:

To jump, saltar

To run, correr

To talk, hablar

To climb, subir

To fight, pelear

To hide, esconderse

He couldn't get his mind off it. Maybe he was becoming obsessed? Or maybe the world was just conspiring to remind him every five seconds. He was tempted to use his desk to hack into the bat computer, but now that he had his own login it wasn't as exciting. His other option was to do research, or at least that was normally his other option. Now, he already knew everything that happened last night. Well, most of it.

Second period was even more pointless. Spanish was useful as a language at least. Dividing fractions was what calculators were for. And yet somehow the math managed to do what the spanish hadn't; it flooded his mind with something other then the night before. He somehow managed to keep the sensations of otherworldlyness from engulfing him until lunch.

That was when a group of his friends started discussing adventures. Matt had gone silent at the comment though no one had noticed. Parker was apparently planning a "super camping trip" for the upcoming long weekend. Parkers dad had apparently promised jet-skis. Matt stuffed his mouth full of chips as Parker bragged that he might even see a bear. The others pressed Parker asking if they could come and saying how they could get permission and already had their own sleeping bags. Then the others who had plans stepped in to boast.

Matt didn't have anything planned. Any trip longer then a day had been unheard of since Terry got his job. Mom didn't work too much but at the moment she was taking a class to get certified in something or other and that left her with basically no time. Most of the time it was the same for Matt. If he wasn't trying to keep track of Batman he had schoolwork, if he didn't have schoolwork he hung out.

"Hay, how about you? You want to come?" Apparently someone had noticed his silence. Matt had no idea if they were still talking about the camping trip or if the conversation had moved on.

"No, Terry promised to take me up to Wayne manor, and show me all of Mr. Wayne's old cars. He says one of them is even a prototype that can go faster then sound. Mr. Wayne might even let us drive it." With that Matt became the center of attention for the next few minutes, until Josh mentioned LOD4 and vid-games suddenly became the topic.

It was a lie of course, about Terry. Matt had gotten a lot better at that recently. It wasn't that the lie bothered him, not really. The thought that yesterday he could have been a real part of the conversation just wouldn't leave him alone.

He was Robin and in some way that meant he was no longer Matt.

Afternoon classes: English, Science, CS, it was all a blur. He tried to just act without thinking any more then necessary. It was harder then it seemed. He was distracted so much that even the closing bell didn't get through to him at first. Then people all around him were moving, picking up bags and the volume level multiplied as everyone started talking. He closed his desk trusting it to shut down automatically rather then actually logging out like he normally did. Instead of getting up though, he just sat there until the room was mostly empty.

When there were only a bare handful of people left he stood up, closed his bag and slung in over his shoulder. The halls were emptying fast, it was easier to just let people dodge around him then try to increase his pace to anything more then a slow walk. He paused when he stepped through the side doors of the building, looking down and letting his eyes adjust to the blinding afternoon sun. his feet took him down the steps. The voice came when he turned to cross the parking lot towards the bus stop.

"Heads up."

It was a voice he was practically programed to obey. Matt turned and managed to catch the bright red helmet that was flying at him. He looked at it, then up at the person who had thrown it.

Terry was dressed in a black T-shirt and grey pants He was leaning against his cycle, his jacket thrown over the handles, his hair wind tossed. It was his eyes that caught Matt, that and the way he was standing, his expression and posture.

Matt hadn't actually seen Batman too many times, and he'd seen Terry being Batman without the suit even less but that didn't stop him from recognizing it. Batman jerked his head at the cycle and picked up his own helmet.

"Let's go."

Robin pushed off the ground, crossing the 20 feet between them at a half run that felt like he was flying.

Robin clung to his brother's back as he raced over twisted roads, highways and back lanes surrounded by old reaching trees. Wayne Manor had been built to be impressive. After over two centuries it still managed to project an aura of class and old money over the city it sat above. The feelings of dark power had probably been a more recent addition.

Terry didn't slow down as he approached the wrought iron front gates. He apparently didn't need to. The gates swung open for him without any signal that Robin could see. He had to wonder if the old man was in the cave watching them approach. They finally slid to a stop at the bace of the steps outside the front doors.

The entrance had been made to impress the wealthy as they gathered for some special occasion. It hadn't served that purpose in years and as such had fallen from the status of mystic castle to somewhere around the haunted mansion level. Robin had never actually come to Wayne Manor through the front door, and he found himself suitably impressed.

Batman nodded at the front door. "I'll meet you inside." he patted the cycle's seat and started pushing it towards a smaller gate that was hidden in a hedge. Robin reminded himself that he already knew the mansion's secret and pushed open the door.

It was clear from the moment he stepped inside that only some of the manor was used. The main staircase was dusty with the upstairs rooms closed. There weren't any locks on the doors or anything but that didn't make it any less clear that they were off limits. The rooms that were used were clearly marked simply because they were the only ones that had been maintained. Rich old world furnishings were laid out with careless elegance while figures looked out from oil paintings on the walls.

Robin wondered through first one room then another, caught up in the luxury and careless grace. When he found himself in the study from the night before he knew he had reached the center of it. The wall lined with high books, the windows overlooking a grand view of Gotham City, the painting that hung over the fireplace, even the furniture laid out in several groups gave off a certain impression. The rest of the manor was built to impress, and while it was functional it wasn't really lived in. This room was.

Terry entered the room at a casual stroll. He met Matt's eyes then nodded to the grandfather clock on the wall. Matt turned to face the clock. He knew that it must be hiding the entrance to the cave but that didn't mean he knew how to open it. He started by looking the clock over from every angle, but even knowing that it was hiding a secret door he couldn't find a lever or switch.

"Is this a test, or can I ask how you open it."

Terry grinned, and it was very much a Terry smile without Batman overtones. "I was hoping you knew how to open it. The old man didn't tell me that much."

Robin's face fell. A part of him had thought that his brother was back to normal. "But then."

"Matt," Terry interrupted him. Robin looked up more at the tone then the name; Terry's voice held A bit more of an edge, not Batman yet, but closer. "Don't get me wrong, I know what's behind that door, I just used a different entrance last time."

Okay, now Robin didn't know what to think. Did he remember or not? He opened his mouth to ask some variant of that question when he was interrupted by a scratching sound coming from the clock. Robin looked at it and took a half step back on reflex. The clock swung open a moment later, revealing Ace. The dog glared at them, which Terry ignored stepping forward and around the dog. He ruffled the dog's ears then noticed that Matt still hadn't moved.

"You coming?

"Well." Robin didn't take his eyes off Ace and Terry seemed to get the idea.

Terry bent down next to Ace, putting a hand on his back just behind the collar. "He's a friend Ace, one of the good guys." Ace let out a snort of breath as if that was yet to be seen, but turned away without showing his teeth. And so they were permitted to descend into a real life cave of wonders.

Even having seen it before the sight of the Batcave, this time fully illuminated with everything running at maximum capacity, took Robin's breath away. Wayne sat in his chair in front of the big computer, fingers steepled in front of him, observing everything he and Terry did. Terry didn't seem to notice, or maybe he was just used to it. He found a spot at one of the remote workstations and leaned against it, folding his arms over his chest. By that point Ace had taken his place by his master's side.

The statement was clear; your move.

Robin slowly turned a full circle before he spoke. "Why do you have a giant penny?"

"Two-face." Wayne's voice was flat. He was still waiting.

"What about the Grey Ghost costume?" That got a raised eyebrow from Terry. Robin shrugged. "They were playing a marathon on the rewind channel when I got really sick a few months back."

Again Wayne answered without inflection. "A gift from Simon Trent."

"And the dinosaur?" This time Wayne was silent.

"Terry, didn't know how to open the door." Robin looked around again as the silence stretched. He knew he was being tested by the old man and Terry must have been in on it or he would have said something by now. He had so many questions, and was finally in a position to ask some of them. Yet at the same time he had kept the secret for months, and not just the big secret, but the fact that he even knew the secret. He had talked last night but that was because he had been strung out on the end of his rope. Now he was in control, he knew exactly what he was saying.

"You don't remember, or at least Terry doesn't, but you know that I do." He looked at Wayne with his arms at his sides and his voice even. "I don't know what I can tell you."

Wayne leaned forward slightly. "Why do you assume that's why you're here?"

He briefly lifted one shoulder. "When Terry picked me up. Just for that minute, I thought, that's Batman. But then he stopped." Robin turned to Terry. "You don't have your backpack, which means you don't have the suit, and you never go anywhere without the suit." He looked at Wayne and this time his voice was slightly pleading. "Please tell me you remember. I can't be the only one who knows."

"Have you seen the latest news bytes? Plenty of people know about Batman."

Robin gave Terry a look. "They might know _of_ Batman, but they don't know." he put the emphasis clearly on the last word.

"You're assuming I don't have fail safes in place." Mr. Wayne wasn't accusing he was simply guiding the conversation.

"You do remember?"

Wayne paused before he spoke. "I've been studying the files."

Robin knew his disappointment was probably obvious.

"Why is it so important?"

Robin didn't understand the question at first. "Four days without Batman is a long time in this city. If you did have a fail safe it should have done something by now."

That got a shadow of a glare from the old man. "I had forgotten how impatient children can be."

"Try living with him."

"When you actually bother to come home." Robin was grinning. The banter was almost a comfort especially because it came so easily.

"It is a fair point." Wayne leaned back in his chair. "Of all the people who know this secret, why is Matt the only one who has retained the knowledge? And is he truly the only one or are there others that have not realized there is a situation?"

"The other Robins might know."

"Other Robins?" Terry asked.

Robin just looked at his brother. "Wow, you really forgot everything didn't you." he pointed at the case where the robin costume had yet to be replaced. "Batman isn't the only one who protects Gotham. There was a whole group back in the age of Heroes, a family. Robin, the boy wonder; only then he grew up and became nightwing. Red Robin was the third robin, and there was Batgirl. Robin protects Gotham when Batman isn't there."

"Is that what you were doing last night?" Wayne had reached over and pressed a key setting the screens around him buzzing with images that Robin couldn't help but recognize. It was him from the night before, both from his own point of view and from various other angles though the latter were less common. Robin stumbled into a nearby chair, transfixed by the images of himself. On one screen he fell off the building while the on the screen below it he crept along a dark corridor.

"I just need to know two things Matt." Wayne's voice was low filtering through the images as if it was another piece of the background.

"Robin."

"Robin." he accepted the correction without comment for the moment. "I need to know who should know but doesn't, and when this started."

Robin tore his eyes from the screens and blinked several times. "Okay, Okay, ummm, other then you. I know that Max knows, or should know, or used to know."

Terry was shaking his head. "She doesn't." he pulled a batarang from somewhere in his coat and flipped it open. "Recognize this?" he was looking pointedly at Robin.

Robin shrugged. "What about it."

"Max found it stuck in the kitchen ceiling last night."

Robin winced, he had completely forgotten about that.

"I'd prefer to keep Miss Gibson out of this."

Terry turned to look at the old man then nodded sharply. Both of them turned to look back at Robin.

Robin sank back into his chair a bit, pinned there by the two fierce pairs of eyes. "Other then Max..." he trailed off wondering if he should mention Gordon's name. She had been odd, but he still had no solid proof that she had known the secret. "Computer, access all files on Barbra Gordon."

_856,401 files found._

_Accessing Oracle Protocol _

_78,319,882 files found._

_Please refine search parameters._

Well, Robin hadn't expected that.

"Limit to files pertaining to her personal biography." Wayne had turned his chair around, his fingers now hovered over the keyboard as if waiting for a starting gun to go off.

_37 files found. _

His hands started moving and a moment later the files were sorted according to timeline and relevance. Another minute of rapid typing and three files opened on the main screen. The first outlined an occasion when the first Commissioner Gordon was framed. Barbra had dressed up in a costume similar to what Batman wore at the time. Bruce had been undercover and she had ended up assisting Robin in an impromptu rescue.

The second File outlined the events of one night. The Joker had Shot Barbra paralyzing her from the waist down. He had gone after her because of her father. He probably would have killed her if he had known she was a cape. Even so it solidly ended her carer as Batgirl. There was reference to another file and a person called Oracle near the end.

The last of the three files was about the day she became commissioner. There had been no less then four assassination attempts in the days preceding it. Her predecessor Commissioner Hale was a good man but he simply hadn't been able to handle the increasing crime rate after Batman had vanished. The heart attack hadn't really been a surprise. Gordon had taken control in the days after Hale's death. She had been the obvious replacement for him. It was around that time that she had finally consented to a surgery for her legs. Unfortunately the same qualities that made her the perfect candidate for commissioner also made her a lot of enemies.

"Batgirl?" Terry seemed to be stuck somewhere between awe and disbelief.

"If she was Batgirl then why does she hate you so much?"

"Wait, Me or him?" Terry pointed first to his own chest then gestured towards Wayne.

Robin shrugged. "Batman."

"That's for another time." Wayne spoke over his shoulder his hands still running over the keys. "Is there anyone else?"

Robin Shrugged. "The old Robins, but they might still know, and probably some members of the Justice League."

"Fine," the old man shifted his chair by a quarter turn so he could look at the others. "What about my other question. When did this start?"

Robin shook his head. "I don't know exactly. Your computer can probably tell you more then I can."

"I'm not asking it. I'm asking you."

He started to shake his head again then actually thought about it. "Terry helped stop Blight after the jail break on Sunday night. Then you called him and he went off as Batman that afternoon. He got back later then normal but he must have still known about it 'cause he put the suit away. He started acting strange Tuesday afternoon, or that's when I first noticed it."

"That gives us about a twelve hour window." Wayne swiveled back to the keyboard and started typing again. Terry pushed off from where he was leaning on the work station and crossed to stand behind the first Batman. His posture had shifted again and Robin was starting to have trouble telling his brother's two personas apart.

"What d'you think?"

Bruce glanced up at Terry before grudgingly answering. "It would have to have been simultaneous or at least within a very short time frame otherwise one of us might have suspected something. It would also have to have been unobtrusive. If we detected it before it triggered the memory loss then we would have a chance to stop it."

Terry watched him type for another few minutes before he straightened and turned to Matt. "Hay Twip, where's my suit, looks like I'm going to need it."

* * *

This is another chapter that I've been looking forward to, especially the first part. We're also getting into the thick of things now and that's always fun.

Since the last chapter was posted a lot has happened. Two pieces of Partners fan art were posted on deviant art. They are at

crazyfish101 ~dot~ deviantart ~dot~ com/art/Bat-Matt-253947726

and

twinenigma ~dot~ deviantart ~dot~ com/art/Big-Bro-Makes-It-Look-Easy-255256203

I would just like to say that I am amazingly faltered and would like to offer my full thanks.

With this chapter we have also passed the 50,000 word mark for this story. Celebration is called for. As a bonus I will soon be posting a Batman Beyond short story, so keep an eye out for it.

Our amazing reviewers for last chapter were: Loucheena, CrAzy-fish, Lenorathetrekkie, koi, Jimmy Candlestick, Harm Marie, and V. congratulations guys we made it past the 100 review mark.

And as always a thank you goes out to Rose my beta.


	20. Chapter 20

Robins first response to his brother's request was joy. Yes! Batman was Back! His second reaction managed to sink all his hopes back into the quagmire. Without his memories would Terry even be able to fly that thing? Which led solidly into his third thought. We're doomed. By that point Terry had pulled the suit from the back of the bat-mobile where Matt had left it the evening before. He seemed to study the suit with wicked glee before pulling it on.

"Umm Terry?"

Terry hmmed to show he might be listening as he crossed to retrieve the gloves from next to the computer.

"Well, you don't remember being Batman."

Terry pulled on the gloves. "So?"

"So, you can't use the suit. I mean you don't know how." Robin was having trouble coming up with the right words. His brother didn't seem to realize just how dangerous going out there was. "You don't know who you'll be up against. You don't have any experience from fighting any of them before."

Terry looked at Matt. He was now in full costume apart from the mask and his voice was taking on a darker edge without any awareness on Terry's part.

"That didn't stop you last night."

Robin didn't have a reply.

"Think about it this way, from what you know of Batman, would he back off just because he had a disadvantage?"

Robin let out a raged breath. Terry had no idea how many times he had nearly died and while Robin didn't know the full number he could at least estimate.

"What do you even plan to do? You have no idea who took your memories or how.

Terry looked over at Wayne, who had apparently been listening to their conversation.

"West 107th and Linwood." he swiveled his chair around to face them. His fingers were steepled again his eyes locked with Terry's "You received a phone call Tuesday mourning from a prepaid phone. Cell towers place the caller within 100 meters of the West 107th and Linwood juncture."

Terry looked skeptical. "Somehow I doubt they've stuck around since last Tuesday."

Robin knew enough to wince, Terry really had no idea what he was doing, no one talked back to the original Bat.

Wayne's gaze was cold and empty. "No, but it will take me at least two hours to track down who bought the phone and when so you might as well make yourself useful rather then staying around here and being an active distraction. Who knows, they might have even gotten sloppy and left something for you to find." It was like Wayne was spelling it out for a particularly slow child.

Something flickered across Terry's face too fast for Robin to read. "Better then staying here." he pulled on his mask and started towards the car.

"I'm going too." Robin didn't quite shout but he was certainly determined.

"No." both of them, suddenly they were back on the same page. Weren't they fighting a moment ago? Did he miss something?

"You are not coming." Terry had turned and crossed his arms.

"You need me."

"You're staying."

Robin was still too nervous around the old man to argue outright. "Why? At least give me a reason."

"Right now you are our ace. The enemy doesn't know about you or they would have taken your memories as well. Once Terry shows himself they'll know something is wrong. They will go looking for what they missed, and what they will find is you. The stunt you pulled last night may have already tipped them off. Until we know more you are staying where Terry or myself can keep an eye on you."

"But Terry will be there to look after me, besides he still doesn't know about the suit. I've looked at it. I know how it works, mostly."

Wayne didn't seem angry. He seemed more like he was trying to explain a complicated equation. Not that Robin could read him, the man was a closed book. "Terry doesn't need your help."

"You see-"

Wayne cut Terry off with a glare before continuing. "Terry has an almost perfect Kinaesthetic memory."

"Wait, I do?"

Another glare. "Your brother learns by going through the motions of something. I guess that a few hours in the suit will get him more up to speed then if you spent the rest of the night trying to explain things to him."

Robin still didn't like it. "but."

He must have been pushing it because this time the glare was aimed at him.

"You admit to having no training and any equipment you might use is over 40 years out of date. You are staying here."

That apparently settled the matter.

* * *

When Wayne had called Terry at lunch telling him to get up to the manor as soon as he could get away unnoticed Terry hadn't hesitated to skip his afternoon classes. He had a lighter class schedule on Thursdays anyway and Phycology was one subject that he could pass without being there. He had always been good at understanding people.

He had expected that Wayne had figured out some aspect of their current mystery. The revelation that he had partial amnesia was something that he had already suspected. Then Wayne had shown him the cave and laid out the theory (Wayne called it a theory but Terry couldn't see how the cave could be explained any other way) that he was the man behind the mask for Gothams longstanding hero.

The one he couldn't remember.

Terry had rejected the idea at first only because he couldn't imagine himself in the same terms as people like Superman. It was only after Wayne had sent him off to read through a pile of files about the superhero he was supposed to be that he had partially understood his role. Taken as true it at least explained why he had been a target. He had already been prepared to accept a strange explanation so he went with it. When he got his memory back it would probably all make sense.

The idea that Matt might be the key to the situation was not exactly ideal but it was no stranger then the rest of the situation, and as much as Terry hated to admit it, Matt was right. The suit looked simple enough at first but the longer he looked the more complexities he found. When he moved he could feel the suit compensating, adjusting. Each move he made had to be calculated so the strength enhancements didn't send him through a wall. His visor was constantly flickering through a dozen settings and the gloves seemed to adjust themselves depending on how he held his hands.

It should have felt strange, alien to have the layers of skin tight fabric and nano machinery all over him. He had expected something like static electricity or maybe something like the constant pressure of being under water. Instead the machinery pressed against his skin in miniature patterns that reminded him of being covered in ants. It wasn't a pleasant feeling and yet it didn't invoke the gross-out he was expecting. Instead his body responded by becoming more responsive; as if he was out on the street, walking the edge where he could be attacked at any minute.

Then the gloves interfaced with the car and everything was turned up a notch. He could actually hook his visor up to the cars optical censors, letting him "see" anything the car could. That was without even mentioning how fast the thing could go. Thrill wasn't a good enough word to describe it. He was so caught up with the amazing toys that he had suddenly been handed that he accidentally passed his destination, twice.

Even though he had picked Matt up in the middle of the afternoon evening was rolling in by the time he leapt onto the roof of an old warehouse on the corner of West 107th. While he was in the cave the heat of the afternoon had tried to get a storm going. The resulting clouds hadn't been enough to set off a summer thunderstorm as they might have in a month or two. They covered the city in a layer of gray, promising rain as soon as the temperature started to drop. Terry didn't really care for rain but the clouds gave him a certain level of cover that he wouldn't have otherwise had with the sun still up.

107th and Linwood was in a patch of city that most Gothamites had forgotten about. It wasn't bad enough to be openly avoided or get any creds for urban renewal but it didn't have anything to offer. Once upon a time Lexcorp had tried to build a factory or a laboratory or something but WayneTech had forced them under until the warehouses were just extra storage and then not even that. Now the area was only occupied by people who wanted to get away from both the good and the bad that Gotham had to offer.

It took Terry a moment to figure out how to hide the car. The old man had seemed confident when he had described Terry's abilities but so far there hadn't been any big revelation. That wasn't lessening his confidence, he could hold his own in a fight and the suit basically handed him victory against any normal person. On the other hand, detective work wasn't exactly something he was familiar with, at least at the moment.

He fiddled with the visor settings until he thought he was recording then made his way over to one of the large (broken) skylights that dotted the roof. Machinery had once been present as evidenced by the large electrical hook-ups that wrapped cables around the rafters. The large mettle shelving units were more recent additions, though even they showed plenty of wear.

Terry slipped inside settling on one of the sturdier support beams looking down the rows. Okay, clinging to the wall like that, very sway. He flipped through visor settings in case anything else popped up, but apart from inferRed and what he guessed was some kind of radio frequency he couldn't tell what they were supposed to do. InferRed picked out three human sized heat signatures clustered around something at the far end of the building, and a few other smaller signatures, that probably translated to stray cat's or something.

He flipped off the ceiling doing an simple flip to land in a crouch between two rows of shelves. The suit made it so easy. There was no rustling of fabric, even his own footfalls were barely perceivable. The suit seemed to be amplifying his hearing as well, he could already pick out the soft conversation from two rows away.

He stayed low as he slid forward. Most of the shelves were either empty or occupied by collections of empty wooden crates. The shadows they cast on the floor of the warehouse were a maze of interlocking bars that obscured distance and concealed details. Terry took advantage of it, slipping from shadow to shadow. It was odd. It wasn't something that he had to think about doing, it just felt right. Then the source of the three heat signatures came into view and he paused to watch.

He didn't know what he had expected but three dregs around an old vid screen wasn't it. Maybe he had pictured something bigger, more exciting then some bums for his first mission. Then again this wasn't really his first mission.

At some point he would have to get a full explanation on how sections of a person's memory could be erased.

One of the dregs cursed as sparks flew up from the contraption he was bent over.

"Come on Thane, leave it. You'll never be able to power it anyway." another of them, this one in a faded red jacket called from where he was sitting on one of the crates that he had apparently dragged over to their corner.

"You got a better idea?" Thane grunted. Whatever it was he was working on was hooked up to a pair of car batteries. Terry shifted trying to see what it was.

"Can't you two leave it alone for five minutes?" the last of them complained. He was sitting against the wall rather then on a crate. Actually laying against the wall was more accurate. The man was slumped, bending in on himself like a wet cardboard box. Thane and Red seem to quiet down for a bit but it was clear it wasn't finished. Thane goes back to working on his device and unseen Terry slips around to see what exactly it is.

At first he doesn't recognize it without the sphere up but then it hits him, it's an emersion vid, or at least the bace of one. Red is right, he'll never get vid-game like that powered without tapping into the grid. The real question is how he got it?

Terry adjusts his mask and only after he's set it to magnify did his mind remind him that he doesn't know how to do that. With the magnification it was clear that the platform was less then a year old and had only been moved to the warehouse or at least that spot in the warehouse very recently. An emersion vid platform isn't something you can just steal and these three dregs couldn't pull it off even if it was.

Well now, I think that might just be called a lead.

Options then; from the tiny bit of information he'd gleaned that afternoon Batman was the kind of hero who would appear out of the shadows only to scare his opposition shitless and generally terrorize the information out of them. That didn't sound so hard. All it would really take was a good entrance.

He was still considering a few minutes later when Thane nearly blew them all up.

Terry couldn't tell exactly what the man had done but the jolt of electricity that set several of the crates on fire couldn't possibly have been what he had intended. Thane and Red stumbled back raising their arms to shield from the sudden flares of light. Instinct took over and Terry surged forward. He could still see thanks to some feature of the mask.

The fire was the least of the problem. The surge of power was still going and as far as Terry could tell it was being looped between the platform and the batteries without the benefit of a surge protector. The explosion that was coming wouldn't have taken out the whole building, just this corner of it, but that was still enough to injure maybe kill these dregs. Plus Wayne would kill him if he had to repair the suit without a fragged good reason.

A flick of his wrist brought out some kind of blade that he whipped across the cables. They burst apart ending the explosion by sending the buildup of energy out through every conductive material nearby. The vid-platform let out a crackle of static and started smoking, more crates were set alight and the outer plating of the suit was outlined in golden power before the energy was grounded. Terry found several pellets in his belt, flicking them at the still growing flames. He was hoping for Ice but when the smoke smothered the flames he wasn't overly disappointed.

Seconds, it had only taken seconds. The dregs were still picking themselves up, starring at him or possibly the cloud of smoke that he was now surrounded by. Terry, Batman, he was Batman right now, took a breath, letting the filters in the mask get rid of the smoke.

"Slag me." red said under his breath.

Well, guess that counted for an entrance.

Batman took two steps forward, clearing the smoke and looking as imposing as possible.

"You have information I want."

Both Thane and the one in the red jacket started sputtering. Terry kept his face blank but had to wonder if things normally went this way, and if so how did he ever manage to get any sense out of anyone? Then the third one, the one slumped against the wall, started coughing. The others glanced at him with pity and a trace of regret but didn't move toward him. They were afraid, but more then that they were resigned to the worst.

Finally the coughing trailed off. The man was breathing heavily now, but he managed to speak between raged breaths.

"Swear... no harm..."

"Oh come on Jonah, this is the end and you."

The old man, Jonah, waved a hand stoping the other's words. He seemed to be recovering slightly. "All the stories." He was looking up at Batman now. "You're harsh, but you're also fair." another shot round of coughs. "If we answer your questions, you leave. No grudges, no beatings, no sending anyone else after us after you're gone."

Batman considered debating with him, if only to prove a point, but in truth his proposition was probably the easiest solution. He turned as if dismissing the other two.

"Start with where you got the vid-platform."

"We just found it there." Thane jerked one hand at where it sat.

Batman turned, he wanted speed and the suit lent it to him. He crossed the 20 feet between him and Thane before the other man could do more then reflexively step back. Batman grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him off balance. There were less then two inches between their faces.

"Lie to me again and your friends deal wont save you. Where did you find the platform." his voice was deeper then usual. The words came out automatically. It wasn't a bluff. He pushed the thought that this wasn't him away, because in a way it was him, and that thought was more then a little terrifying.

"Not a lie," he gasped "Found it by the old managers office. Pulled it over here to work on it."

This time the man's face didn't show any signs of lying. He shoved the man away letting him fall on his ass. He turned to the remains of the platform. The memory board looked to be completely fried but he pulled out anyway. There was an off chance Wayne might be able to get something off it. When he stood he was back in control of himself though whether it was Terry or Batman that was in control he couldn't tell.

"This, office?" Red pointed but otherwise they didn't seem inclined to move. He decided to give them a little slack. "I'm looking for someone who was here at the beginning of the week."

Glances were exchanged. "Didn't see anyone." emphasis on the word see.

"Who was here?" his words were quiet.

Again glances were exchanged. Red seemed to be the loser of the silent argument. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Two people, we cleared out as soon as they showed up, could tell they were bad news. They had equipment, actually had this place lit up somehow. Then they just clear out couple days back. We didn't see nothing, safer that way."

It made a bit of sense. No reason to do the big mind wipe from the secret lair when the signal would lead strait back to it. Better to pick an isolated unconnected spot.

"Anything else they leave behind?" Batman saw the glance that Thane tried to hide. He walked over to a worn old coat that had been draped over a crate as if he could read the other man's mind. A quick search of the pockets revealed an out of date phone. He held it up so the others could see. Thane was looking decidedly uncomfortable. "Anything else you want to tell me about?" This time there was no sign of deception when they said no. He slid the phone into his belt.

He believed them when they said they didn't know anything else. The fear showed clearly on their faces. He had gotten what he had come for, what he really needed now was a good exit.

This time there didn't seem to be any convenient distractions on hand so Terry flipped open his wings and kicked the jets in his heels into action aiming for the nearest of the broken skylights. He managed not to make a fool of himself until he tried to land, by that point there was no one around to see him.

* * *

Wayne watched Terry leave silently. Outwardly he may have been confident that the boy could handle it but the simple fact of the matter was that if he was wrong (he wasn't wrong, he was never wrong) then the boy wouldn't be able to handle what came next in any case. In all likelihood this would have been a difficult situation even if they still had their memories. He turned back to the computer. The boy had his challenge, he had his.

The number encoded into the phone and the checksomes it used indicated that it had been bought over two years ago. Since most prepaid phones were used within 20 days of purchase that in it's self was something to note. The phone hadn't been purchased more then 30 months previous since that was when the tagging law had gone into effect to trace the purchase and use of such devises.

He set the computer to run down the serial number, backtracking from the call Terry had received. Apparently at some point in the past he had had the foresight to upgrade the boy's phone shielding it and uploading a few programs to record and upload anything from any number that wasn't flagged. He wondered if the boy knew, or had known, then shrugged. At this point it didn't matter. Because of the programs he found the number faster then he had expected.

Accessing the phone company's database to find the corresponding phone was simpler then it should have been. At some point he would have to investigate just how powerful this system of his was. That sparked a new thought. He took a moment to open a new document and leave himself a note before returning to the matter at hand.

With the phone's number and serial he could track every call it had made since it had been sold and see who those calls had been placed to given enough time. He needed a data analysis program and promptly found one where he would have saved it if he had just finished writing it. He set the program running and was about to go back to his previous thought when Matt spoke.

"If you don't remember then how come you can still do stuff like that with the computer, and how do you know about those?" the boy waved a hand at the trophy cases.

He turned. Had it been too much to hope that the boy keep himself occupied until he finished? "I've done the research."

Turning back to the computer he pulled up the file for the phone conversation from Tuesday mourning.

"I don't get it. How do you do research when the only source of information is that computer and you don't remember any passwords? You can't just hack the bat-computer that would take days, and if you had the passwords written down somewhere then you would have forgotten that too since it's part of it."

Wayne kept his face expressionless even though he was facing away. "Muscle memory, and voice controls from there."

The phone conversation from Tuesday, yes there was something odd about it. The size wasn't extraordinary when taking video into account but the compression was strange, or maybe it was the echo factor. He began searching for a virus scanner just to be safe.

"So you can just access the whole system through muscle memory? Does that mean you can use all the gadgets too, since you built them?"

For a moment Bruce reflected on whether Matts questions or Terrys quips were more annoying. He decided that the questions got priority for the moment since in the past he had simply been able to ignore the quips.

"I can use the computer since I built it and I know how I think. Since I can't remember the vast majority of things I have created for this venture it is unlikely I would be able to use them."

"But you could figure out how they worked?"

He reminded himself that at least the boy was asking intelligent questions and that generally he would commend such curiosity. "I would assume so."

The file, virus scanner, irregularity.

He managed to get the program running before Matt asked his next question.

"I've been thinking, you guys aren't going to forget again are you? Like as soon as you go to sleep or when you look away or something? Because that would be bad and I'm not sure how I could convince you guys next time."

Wayne turned his chair completely around to fix Matt with a look that had his words slowly trailing off to a stop.

"I doubt I will be forgetting anything, unless perhaps, the event that caused all this is repeated. The trouble seems to be restoring our memories. Now I am going to set up these programs. It will take at least half an hour. When that is done you are going to tell me everything you know about Batman and anything else I want to know, and I will answer any other questions you might have. Until either that is done or your brother returns you will have to find ways to amuse yourself. Ways that do not involve distracting me. Understood?" His words were conversational, his tone was even. He made no threats. He didn't need to. Terry had perhaps become accustomed to his mental attacks, but Matt had yet to acquire any defenses. His nod was more then half tremble, and his eyes were twice as large as they should have been.

Bruce spun his chair around again and after several moments of silence went back to work. He probably wouldn't get the full half hour before something blew up but with the kind of curiosity that Matt seemed to have it was probably inevitable so he might as well get some work done in the mean time.

* * *

Sorry this came later then usual, this chapter was kind of hard to write for some reason. In case any of you have yet to find it the bonus story I promised is up, the title is Time out, and it's set before Partners in the same universe.

Thank you to V, Harm Marie, Jimmy Candlestic and Lenorathetrekkie for reviewing the last chapter. Unfortunately Rose, my Beta is having computer trouble so this has not been looked over by anyone but me. I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

Please review, I love reading your thoughts.


	21. Chapter 21

A quick note: this first section should have been in the previous chapter. I was going over my notes and realized I had forgotten a few things so here it is.

* * *

Barbra Gordon took off her glasses and took a moment to lean back and pinch the bridge of her nose. She had been working nonstop for the last five hours, trying to plow her way through all the paperwork that was actively trying to bury her. She almost missed the days when she was younger and the paperwork was actually on paper, then she would have had the pleasure of setting fire to the lot of it. Bureaucracy, how was she supposed to keep the crazies off her streets when everyone from lawyers to civil rights organizations put walls in her way. Even the people who were trying to help made her job harder.

How late was it now, 6:30, 7:00? Could she manage another late night this week without going insane? Could she afford not to?

There was a soft knock on her office door. This meant two things to her: first that whoever was outside her door was of a lower rank then her, and second that whatever it was wasn't urgent. They were lower rank because anyone who managed to get to a higher rank then commissioner tended to be an elected brickhead who considered themselves the most important person in any room and so would not want to be kept waiting. They weren't bringing anything urgent because her people knew better then to wait at her door when lives were at stake. That being the case she took a moment to compose herself and close her computer before calling out for them to enter.

The rookie, Hawk that was his name, came in closing the door behind him. She couldn't remember calling for him but considering her workload it might just have slipped her mind.

"Officer?" she turned the greeting into a question.

He stepped forward to stand in front of her desk but didn't sit. "Commissioner, I'd like to speak with you." he was fumbling over his words. If he hadn't been standing at a parade rest with his hands behind him he probably would have been fiddling with something.

"I would say that was evident."

He glanced up at her and she could see the thoughts processing as he made a choice.

"Ma'am. I would like an explanation of the events of last night."

Well, that wasn't what she had expected. "You were there officer Hawk, what kind of information were you hoping for?"

"I don't know ma'am, it's just that I don't understand what happened. It feels like I'm missing," he glanced at her then shook his head, "something."

"And you decided to ask me? Again, you were there, you were practically my shadow. You saw everything I did."

"That's just it, I saw everything you _did, _and I don't understand your actions."

"So, what you really want is for me to explain myself."

He paused, trying to read her face maybe. Her voice had been dry. If she hadn't already had such a long day she might not have made a fuss about it, but unfortunately for him that wasn't the case.

"It wouldn't be my place to question a superior officer."

She didn't miss the fact that he nether denied that that was indeed what he was looking for or confirmed that he was questioning his superiors judgment. It was a politically correct statement. She couldn't fault him for it but at the end of a long day she could solidly say she hated politically correct statements. She almost got angry at him, then she controlled herself.

"I need coffee." He probably heard the weariness in her voice.

"Cream, no sugar?"

He remembered, and was clearly offering to retrieve the beverage. A peace offering, he really was a good kid.

"No, I need to stretch my legs. Wait here, I'll be right back."

The short walk to the break room did her good and the half pot of relatively fresh coffee was a godsend. She took her time making the cup and only after she was satisfied that it was perfect (or as perfect as break room coffee could be) did she return to her office. When she reached her door, she ended up pausing. Ian was speaking on the phone to someone, she could just hear the other voice through the soundproofing. She opened the door softly just as Ian responded to the other.

"I'm sorry, What was the nature of your call?"

"I'm going to find you, you hear-"

Barbra touched the cancel button causing the rookie to jump as he noticed that she had retuned.

"Making calls on my private line?" She didn't have to fight to keep her voice level. Her instincts said he was on the level, it was her years of experience that prompted the question.

"No Ma'am, I thought it might be important so I answered it but," He shook his head slightly. "They sounded, Tripped or something, wouldn't tell me who they were or what they wanted."

She sat down sipping at her coffee and glanced at the record on the phone. Sure enough it had been an incoming call rather then outgoing. Good she didn't need another thing to worry about. She took another drink and fixed her eyes on Ian.

"Last night went bad. Not as bad as it could have been but it's never a good thing when people end up in the hospital, or worse. I wont say that the kid didn't help, but no one knows what might have happened if he hadn't added himself to the equation. Us, me and you, this teem, we've made the choice to put our lives on the line in order to help people, but this teem consists of informed adults. I've seen bad things happen to a lot of good people in this city. I've seen rescues go wrong and the bad guys get away again and again. That kid, he doesn't know what he's getting in to. He has no idea." She looked down at her cup swirling the contents around the bottom. "you said you were from Metropolis, how do the police cope there?"

He shrugged. "They let the League handle anything big. The League has been there for so long, it's like working with another department. Homicide, narcotics, superheroes. They're the first responders, we handle the long term stuff, or anything too small to catch their eye. That's why I came here after the academy, more need, more connection to the people."

She nodded. "Nothing to do with your girl?"

She wouldn't have thought it was possible to change colors that fast.

"Well, maybe a little. Wait, how do you know about Susan?"

"It's my job to know about my people. Now if there isn't anything else, I have work to do."

He was still red when he left.

* * *

It took Matt about four seconds to realize that he now had almost free reign of the bat cave for as long as he could avoid trouble. Wayne had told him to keep himself amused so he couldn't be punished if he was caught, which was the perfect excuse to explore. The number of cool things that could be hidden in the recesses of the cave was potentially limitless.

He started with the trophy cases since they were right there. What he really needed was to build a proper mental map so he wouldn't get lost in a crisis. Yes, when the next big thing happened Robin would have to be ready.

It took him several minutes to get past the trophies, there were just so many of them, and it seemed those were only the largest and most important. A set of double doors set into the stone wall proved to hold further "evidence". Rows upon rows of file cabinets and clearly labeled boxes stacked on shelves filled the long room. Unlike in the main cave the ceiling here was only average hight the florescent lights gave the place a harsh clinical atmosphere.

Robin was interested in old files. He had stolen plenty of old case files from the computer in the past but for some reason this place unnerved him slightly. He understood the cold detached reason that had created this room but seeing it taken to such an extreme was something that had never occurred to him he might face. It was the kind of place that belonged in large companies and faceless organizations that were the definition of bureaucracy. The thought that one man had managed to duplicate that feeling was unnerving.

Robin turned away and noticed a door to his right. He took the exit offered to him without much thought. The hallway that he found himself in was undecorated apart from the doors that appeared at regular intervals. The atmosphere wasn't so clinical but still didn't mesh with his idea of the bat cave.

He stuck his head in the first door he came to and found more stacks of boxes and files. This room wasn't as sinister though if only because of the layers of dust on everything. On impulse he took a look at the label of the nearest box.

Riddler – 19377 – 079

September 24, 1994 – October 2, 1994

He did some quick math, the box was from over 60 years ago, back when Tim had been acting as the third Robin. Checking a second box supplied a similar date. These were archives then, with the newest files kept in the outer room until they were considered out of date. Between the two rooms there had to be several thousand cases.

A thought made Robin run back out into the hall. There were a total of five archive rooms if you included the outer room. How many case boxes was that? twelve thousand? Fifteen? There had to be Justice League files mixed in, or Nightwings or something. There was no other way those kinds of numbers made sense. The information had to be electronically archived as well, but it made sense that someone like Wayne would want to keep the hard copies as well.

Then the hall came to a T-junction. To his right the hall seemed to lead off back in the direction of the main cave, while to his left stood a solitary doorway. He didn't want to skip anything so he turned left. Unlike the archives this door had a lock and palm-scanner, not that that would stop him.

Then the scanner denied him access. This thing clearly was malfunctioning, he was Robin, the computer recognized him, of course he would have access. He tried again, and again was denied access. Only then did Robin realize the real problem. The system didn't have his palm print on file. He had forced his way into the system, hijacking the old Robin file and because of it the computer didn't know everything about him that it might have. Frag.

"Computer?" Robin had no idea if the systems could sense him here in the back but he figured it was worth a shot. After a full minute of waiting with no response he stubbornly kicked at the door before turning and grumbling as he retraced his footsteps to try the other passage. He would definitely come back, and find out what was back there as soon as he got a chance. His determination stuck with him until he opened the next door and found himself on the threshold of a fully equipped chemical lab.

Matt had been to his dad's old lab once. That had been cool. Wayne-Powers was cutting edge and his dad had been one of their best. They had had machines that he couldn't guess the purpose of, all active, humming and beeping, data constantly being accumulated and processed. This lab was on another level. Dozens of highly specialized machines were standing at the ready, all of them networked together for easy access from any of the five workstations. It was like someone had taken a years worth of science catalogs and put it all in one lab, and then done it over again with the next years catalogs, and the ones after that. A door on one wall lead to a clean room with a large reenforced window, while a second door led to a decontamination chamber. A reenforced titanium security door on the far wall was surrounded by security features and emblazoned with a large yellow bio-hazard symbol. Matt was more interested in computers and machines then chemicals but with set up he couldn't help but be excited.

And that was just the beginning. Further exploration led him to find a fully equipped gym complete with a suspended sparring mat and obstacle course, a medical room with more equipment then his mom's hospital, not to mention beds that were actually bearable, a garage filled with dozens of old bat-mobiles not to mention several motorcycles in Robin's colors. Matt knew better then most that Batman had to be an expert in practically everything, but even he had never properly appreciated the scale of what that meant. Then he came to the true prize, an R+D lab for for all the tools and an archive room for everything that was no longer in use.

Someone had found his belt and put it on a table after he had forgotten about it the night before. He grabbed it and considered putting it on, but instead decided to do a formal inventory, refilling all the pouches and seeing what else he could add to his inventory. Next time he went out he would know how to use all this stuff.

* * *

Terry had decided to do a quick circle of the city before returning to the cave. Partially he just wanted to have some more fun with the car, but the real reason was that he needed time to think. He went over the scene in the warehouse, every word echoing in his mind.

He hadn't been himself. There was darkness there, cold power, and fear coming off those dregs in waves. What he had done, how he had acted, it wasn't him. It wasn't Terry. Only it kind of was him. Back there he had tapped into a part of himself that he had thought he was done with. He wasn't in a gang anymore. The truth was he didn't want to be. Sure there was the thrill, but he was a different person now. Terry didn't need that darkness anymore, but apparently that wasn't the case as far as Batman went.

It wasn't the only time he had noticed it, though he was only now connecting the dots. That fight with the Hunt; going into it he had thought he was dead meat, but that hadn't turned out to be the case, because of Batman.

Matt had been watching him. Matt had seen the switches that he hadn't noticed. That was the part that had him worried. Not so much that he might be showing signs of multiple personalities, or that a side of him he had thought was gone wasn't, but that he didn't know how to recognize the changes. The one thing he had always had confidence in was himself, his body, his mind, his instincts. Now he didn't recognize the signals his own body was sending him, and that could be very bad.

When he finally approached the cave he was forced to put the car on auto pilot. The entrance was hidden and even though he knew it was there he couldn't find it. When the car settled he stalked over to where Wayne was still sitting in front of the computer.

The screen in front of Wayne was crowded with strings of numbers that changed just slightly too fast to read. Terry leaned forward and set the phone down with a click where the old man would be able to see it.

"There was also a vid-sphere the locals fried it but I grabbed the hard drive anyway. Thought you might want to take a look for yourself." he set the drive down on a work table and pulled off the mask. The settings in the visor were giving him a headache.

Bruce used a handkerchief to pick up the phone, setting it in the center of one of the scanners. He had the computer run a scan, but kept the results on one of the smaller screens. His eyes were still dancing over the numbers. Terry couldn't help but roll his eyes, the man was a machine.

"Bruce," he grunted. Why was the older man never this obsessed when it was convenient? "I want you to scan my head." Terry honestly wasn't sure if he would get a response. The typing paused for a moment, then entered another string of characters before the old man consented to a half turn.

"Why?"

It figured, the old man hadn't missed a word. "I want to test something. Besides, having a before and after picture doesn't seem like a bad idea." Wayne studied him, the gears circling behind his eyes.

"I do believe I saw an MRI in the medical room." he pushed himself to his feet and started for the back of the cave where Terry had yet to explore. Sure enough there was a medical room just off the main cave. The equipment was state of the art and could all be operated by voice command like the rest of the cave.

Terry was forced to strip so the MRI couldn't mess with the suit's circuitry. One pair of pants later he lay down and consented to the minimal humiliation of being scanned. When he brought up previous scans from the files he had stolen the differences were apparent. It was like looking at two different brains the activity patterns showed only a few areas of similarity. Unfortunately Terry wasn't knowledgeable enough to infer any details. Which left it up to Wayne and the computer to analyze.

"So..."

Wayne didn't look up from his screen.

"This is going to take a while isn't it."

Wayne hmmed a confirmation.

"What now?"

Wayne sighed and rolled his eyes skyward. "Now, you stop distracting me so I can work."

"I'd love to, but what exactly am I supposed to do in the mean time, go on patrol? What does a person even do on patrol anyway? Besides, aren't I trying to keep a low profile so the bad guys don't realize we know that they did whatever it was." Terry needed to be doing something, all this waiting around, thinking and analyzing wasn't for him. It just brought his thoughts back around to things he couldn't change, and worries that he didn't want to focus on.

Bruce was mumbling something about annoying children and duct tape.

"Go find your brother then. It's probably time he went home. I'll inform you when I get any results."

OK, the old man was in a bad mood, got it.

Terry checked his phone and sure enough there was a text from his mom asking if he had seen Matt. 8:00 was a little late late for Matt to have not checked in. He sent a quick text back and made a mental not to come up with a good excuse, then went to find his brother. It took a bit but Terry eventually found Matt in the armory.

Matt had pulled several work tables into a general U-shape around him and had covered them with anything he could get his hands on. There was a workpad at his elbow that showed a dissembled version of what looked like something between a tazer and a dart gun. An operational version sat on the table just beyond his left hand. Directly in front of him was a tray with several different colored pellets and batarangs in four different designs had been laid out to one side. At the moment he was working on a belt, the Robin belt.

"Hey twip, didn't you get told off earlier for asking to go out? Because it looks to me like you're getting ready to hit the town."

Matt turned around and Terry could see him carefully deciding how to answer. Finally he picked up the belt closing the pouch he had been working on. He jumped off the stool and started past Terry clicking the belt into place around his waist and pulling his shirt down over it.

"As If. You wouldn't even know about the cave without me. Hey, what'r'you, let me go."

Terry had hooked his fingers into the back of his shirt and started pulling him off across the cave. "Come on, I'm taking you home. Oh and we've got to come up with a story for mom since you don't have an excuse to be out all night." Matt stopped struggling. He hadn't thought of that. Their mom might not be as scary as Wayne but she had her moments.

* * *

Bruce noted the brothers as they left the cave. He waited until the computer confirmed that the clock at the top of the stairs had closed before letting himself lean back in his chair.

"You know Ace, one of these days those boys will drive me up a wall." Ace huffed out a breath that might have been agreement, and laid his head down on his paws. Wayne turned back to the computer just as it proclaimed the analysis to be complete.

The phone had been bought at a corner store with a prepaid cred-card: dead end. Only three calls had been made with it since the phone had been bought, and all of them had been from that one location. That left physical evidence. Terry had at least managed to find the right phone, serial number and HID chip confirmed that. He had the computer scan the whole thing and display a 3-D model in high magnification. It was coated in various types of filth but most of it was recent. Only the dust in the groves was old. Conclusion: someone had purchase it and put it aside in case they ever needed an untraceable phone. It would have worked too, if they hadn't gotten sloppy. There were three partial prints on the case.

He set the computer to analyze the prints and search for matches and moved on to look at the brain scans. He didn't know what had prompted Terry to ask for the scan but it wasn't a bad idea. Of course the human mind was a complicated thing and even with all the advancements in technology the brain retained many of it's secrets. Bruce noted several strange markers, scaring, possible inactivity, or something else. Something about the markers were familiar, but he can't remember from where. Research, he decides is the answer.

A red icon appeared in the corner of the screen and He spared a moment to check the alert. The message that appeared saw short and precise.

Police Alert: Level Two

Suspect: Shriek

* * *

Ok I do want to say one thing. I consider this story both an action/thriller and a mystery and while up to now and especially in the last few chapters it's been mostly mystery I do promise more action very soon. I just want this to be a story that someone can reread and go "oh wow she hinted at that and now it all makes sense" so yeah.

On another note I don't really like this chapter and since Rose still hasn't gotten back to me after her computer trouble it hasn't been looked over by a beta. Advice would be appreciated. Along the same lines, I'm not sure how long it will take me to get the next chapter up. I've already scraped two versions so please bear with me.

As always thank you all for reviews, I really like hearing from all of you.


	22. Chapter 22

It wasn't standard protocol but Barbra had made it clear to all her team leaders that she wanted to be informed when anything was about to hit the fan. That being the case she wasn't surprised when one of her younger officers burst into her office to inform her of a situation. Five minutes later she was in one of the briefing rooms leaning over the shoulder of Samson from the Tech Department.

"What have we got?"

"That net tracer we set up after the break out just paid off. We just got a ping off the phone routing system, _Shriek_. We're getting the specks now. Looks like it was purely audio, about three and a half minutes long. There's a %72 match for the voice so it's possible it's a previous recording." He ran his fingers over the keys, a larger screen set into one wall displaying what they had. "Looks like it was to a private number, shielded too. It's not on the public lists."

"Do we have the originating number?"

"Pulling it up now."

The number was revealed as the program tracked it back to its source. The triangulation from the cell towers took only slightly longer. It was city centre, a highly populated area with at least two hotels, a theatre and a dozen restaurants, resting next to her second favorite book store. Lots of people, lots of places to hide, lots of possible hostages. And a perp who had destroyed entire building in the past, and would happily do so again. Yeah this was going to be fun.

"Got it, we have a green light." Greg Thomson burst into the room waving a data pad. Full of barely restrained energy and currently wearing a maniac smile that had earned him more than a few unflattering nicknames, he sent the room into a flurry of activity. Thomson was the Team Leader for this operation. He and Gordon had a rather unique relationship that mostly depended on him not doing anything too crazy and her looking the other way when he constantly exploited every legal loophole in the book.

"Green light?" She was obliged to ask since she was there, even if she didn't really want to know what corners he had cut this time.

"Commish," his voice was far happier than it had any right to be. "Got that court order for the cameras you asked for." She nodded.

She hadn't asked for anything of course, in fact she hadn't done more then pass him in the hall for at least three days. Still, dropping her name to speed things along wasn't even close to the worst thing he had done. He passed the data pad off to Samson looking over the whole room before turning back to see her expectant face. He waited but her expression didn't change.

"I just asked for access to the video network. Five block radius, that's all I swear."

She let him off. It was a good idea; in fact it was probably what she would have done which was why he had managed to get as far as Team Leader. That and she needed to keep an eye on his crazy stunts, in case he really blow the city up one day. "Alright Thomson, this is your case, get to it." She took a step back and crossed her arms making it clear that it was his show but that she was watching and would step in if he crossed the line. Again.

He looked around. The rest of his team was busy at terminals or dashing in and out of the room. He generally had that effect of people; nothing was ever still in his presence.

"Well, here's the thing." His tone was that of a conspirator sharing a hot piece of gossip. "I figure there's at least a fifty percent chance he knows that we know, and that he knows that we know _he knows_, so the real trick becomes catching the rabbit before it realizes the field is on fire." it took her a moment to process that analogy so she nearly missed his next statement. "Hence the bomb."

Dear god in heaven what had he done _this_ time?

"Please tell me you're not serious."

"Entirely, but not in the direction that you're thinking. The point is that that's what he will be thinking and we'll catch a fox because he'll think it's a bear trap."

"Are the animal analogizes really necessary?"

He shrugged and for a moment his expression changed to something that wouldn't qualify him for Arkham. "My four year old has become obsessed with Bambi, you know, that old vid. It's kind of gotten into my head."

Then the sly look crept back onto his face. "As of...", he checked the clock, "Nine minutes ago a Cobra video was broadcast over the net threatening to set off a bomb in, well _what do you know_, the same area of town that Shriek just happens to be hiding in. I guess we'll just have to send all our men in, set up checkpoints do searches, all very quietly of course but news about the bomb is bound to get out after all it was running for a good four minutes before we managed to shut it down."

"That video wouldn't happen to be the same one we have in evidence now would it?" she had to admit faking a bomb scare in order to have an excuse to flood the area with officers was more what she had expected from him. At least he had given her a heads up this time. A part of her even admired the misdirection.

"Fine, can't stop it now. Who knows about this?"

"You, me - the rest of my eavesdropping team. I was going to tell Hal over in the bomb unit but I figured it would look more real."

"Tell him and you're going to pass the message along to the fire department and Swat as well."

"But..." he looked like a kid who had been told he wouldn't get any ice cream unless everyone else got some.

"Heads of departments only, but you _will_ fill them in."

"Oh alright."

"And you are going to keep me informed of everything."

He shrugged at that, it was her normal requirement or one of them at least. Any punishment would be dealt out after everything was over, the scale determined by if it worked, or came down in flames around their ears. Basically the usual. That probably said something about his career; she decided not to think about it too much. And she didn't want to think about what that said about _him_... or her.

It was all down to timing now. Could they get in place fast enough to trap him in their perimeter or would he escape before they could close it? The cameras had been a good idea. Hopefully they would catch him if he tried to move. Hopefully, frag, how she hated uncertainty. She checked the time and sighed, this was going to be a long night.

* * *

Bruce steeled his fingers, looking at the smaller screen directly to his right where the police alert was being updated every ninety seconds since it had started. Shriek - when he had seen the name just under twenty minutes ago he had thought it sounded familiar. The file archived on the villain was informative but hadn't provided any answers to his questions.

Shriek was someone he _actually_ remembered though from what and when eluded him. He could see the man in his white bulky suit looming over him in his mind's eye. He couldn't remember how or when or why which pointed out the gaping holes in his memory. Terry had probably been there as Batman or he would remember it more clearly.

The police were taking Shriek seriously at least. The camera feed from within their offices displayed a flurry of activity and a rather unorthodox approach if it was to be believed. The investigator in charge seemed to be more than a little off his rocker. It was probably a good thing that Barbra was there overseeing things now.

Bruce was faced with a conundrum. Shriek was clearly the kind of character that Batman should be the one to face, but was Terry up to the challenge? In an ideal world Terry wouldn't have been faced with anything more than the common street trash until their memories could be restored. Gotham, as usual, was nowhere near being ideal. Training wasn't something that the mind could forget but without the proper mentality it could be all but useless.

Terry didn't have that mentality, not at the moment. Bruce had seen it when the boy came back in, there was doubt there. Why Terry had started to doubt himself he didn't know. Hopefully the boy would work through it quickly. There wasn't any time for second guessing.

Then there was the fact that Shriek apparently had a vendetta against Batman. An enraged enemy was not to be underestimated. One thing was certain, the longer this was drawn out the worse it could become.

If Terry as an operative was taken out of the equation then the actions Bruce could take were limited. Well, that was fine, he did his best work with a handicap, and perhaps he wasn't as limited as he thought. There were people out there, the fact that they were Barbra's men rather than _his_ people didn't make much difference. He would simply have to be more aggressive in his approach.

The major hole in the net the police were setting up was dimensional. There were people who lived here all their lives who never learned about the tunnels under the city. Even those who knew about them often ignored the fact that the tunnels extended beyond the subway. The police were experienced with dealing in the horizontal and even when someone tried to escape into the sky, but knowing Shriek's history with the tunnels the sky was a far less likely option then simply going underground.

The computer beeped, confirming what Barbra's unit had already learned. The location the call had originated from within a two block radius in the heart of the city. With a few quick commands he had the computer displaying a real-time three dimensional render of the area from data collected from every camera he could hack into as well as information from the Wayne-Powers satellite that was in geosynchronous orbit over the city. From there he added seismograph readings cross referenced with old tunnel maps to display the underground.

This section of the city had a few things of note. First was the system of storage tunnels under the theatre.

The Union Theatre wasn't as well known as the Majestic or the Swanson but it had managed to survive since before his parents time. At one point they had had a rather large basement storage area. At some point the area had been closed off for one reason or another. Since then a few walls had caved in and a few others had collapsed creating a sizable room under the heart of the city without any easy access to the surface.

The other thing of interest was the drainage tunnels for the Gotham River. These tunnels were meant to keep the river from being overwhelmed in the case of torrential rain or anything else that might flood it. There were two large junctions in the area with the intervening tunnels spread rather thickly.

Bruce tried looking from various different angles but most of the underground was a jumble of things that dated as far back as a few hundred years in some cases. He made a note to update his maps at the next opportunity.

Then again, knowing the tunnels wouldn't be necessary if he could take them out of the equation. It was with a sly, slightly evil smile, that he sent a command to close the flood gates in the drainage tunnels. With everything packed that tightly together the water wouldn't have a hard time finding its way into the other tunnels, eventually flooding the entire system. Anyone underground would be forced above ground or be trapped by the raising water.

Outside, the rain that the sky had promised since earlier that evening began to fall.

* * *

The patrol car Ian and his partner had been assigned was at least four years behind the current models. It was scratched up, had a dent in the rear bumper and needed a new paint job but there was no denying it was a solid vehicle. It did have hover capacity so at least they weren't stuck on the ground.

Ian looked out the windows, scanning the streets and other cars around them while pointedly not listening to his partner's crude commentary on the situation. Heath didn't like being called in on his day off, but he wasn't exactly alone. The only reason Ian had been at the station was because he was covering for Geff. He didn't mind the extra work (unlike some of his fellows) but he had to admit that the whole situation had more fish than the Gotham harbor.

If there really was a bomb then they should be evacuating, not sending everyone they had pouring into the area. Whatever the real reason was hadn't leaked down to the officers yet. He wasn't thinking of defying orders or anything, unlike Heath who still wouldn't shut up about missing the game or whatever it was. The orders had had the Commissioner's access codes. He may not have been working the streets of Gotham long but Commissioner Gordon had his trust. He would learn why they were all there when he needed to know. Until then he would do his job, even if that meant dealing with Heath.

God, he had to put in for a new partner. No he shouldn't think that, Heath was fine most of the time, he was just rough around the edges. Ian let out a slow breath, scanning the traffic, looking for the irregularities that would signal something amiss. It was wrong but he wished something would happen, just so he could focus on that rather than the tension that was filling the air.

The city was saturated with it, or at least this part of the city. When the guards were nervous the city would be too. Tensions were running high and the light pattering of rain would do nothing to stop the sparks that could start flying at any time. At this point it was almost better to be pre-emptive.

"Heath, set the car down." Ian waved a hand in his partner's direction without taking his eyes from the window.

"You see something?" he switched gears at the speed of sound, as if he hadn't been complaining about just being there moments before.

"That dive halfway down the block. The bouncer just kicked out the third person in less than ten minutes."

Heath grunted. Cops weren't normally called in for bar fights unless they got nasty but this was Gotham, most of the time they started nasty. Heath settled the car down onto the street about three feet from the curb in the space officially reserved for emergency vehicles, and popped the doors. Ian stepped out ignoring the water that the drain on the corner was slowly swallowing. He waited for Heath to come around the car before heading in the direction of the bar.

It was a small place but it looked reasonably crowded. Not that they could see much through the dirty windows. A bouncer was standing under a small awning outside the door. He was wearing a shirt that proclaimed the place to be 'the green man'. Ian didn't know if it was a reference or an indication of the quality of the food.

"Trouble tonight?" Ian let Heath do the talking, as if anyone could stop him the man was never quiet.

The bouncer shrugged, glancing at the doors. "Nothing too bad yet, the rain has helped, and it's not so hot anymore." He turned back and looked at them straight on, "Having you lot looking over everyone's shoulder isn't helping matters though."

Heath looked the man up and down as if debating whether he should take offense. Apparently the tense atmosphere wasn't only affecting the civs. That so helped things.

Ian waved a hand between the two of them. "If you need any help tonight." The bouncer nodded at the comment and Ian turned to look at his partner, who shrugged and turned back to the car.

That was when the screaming started.

Very few people are trained to run towards screaming. The general instinct is to get as far away as possible. As a cop that wasn't the case for Ian. He and Heath turned the corner and were faced with a stream of people thundering up out of the Union square subway entrance. Ian grabbed the shoulder of the nearest man, forcing him to turn and look at him. He pushed as much authority into his voice as possible.

"What happened?"

The man turned back to look at the entrance. He seemed in shock. "I don't know. The train just got in. Then the tunnel started flooding, water everywhere, it was crazy."

Then the power went out.

* * *

The ride back into town was normally a quiet one. The roads around the manor were usually deserted and once he got into town it was normally late enough that traffic was only terrible rather than horrific. Tonight was different. First there was the fact that Terry wasn't alone, Matt's arms wrapped around his waist were a constant reminder of the day's events. Then there was the fact that he was driving back _before_ three in the morning, and it was raining.

The 349 beltline, or 'the loop' to the locals circled most of the city and was generally the fastest way to get anywhere not in the city centre. At the moment however the northwest curve was down to two lanes thanks to construction. That and late rush hour traffic would have them at a standstill for the next four hours if Terry's estimate was anywhere close to accurate. Luckily there were several back streets he knew of that could provide a detour.

Terry leaned into the turn, reveling in the feel of the wind that crept in through the neck of his jacket. Matt just pressed harder into his back, the rim of the kid's helmet cutting into his ribs. He weaved through traffic until it became too thick and he was forced to slow down and obey traffic laws.

That was when he started to notice it. Even with the rain there were more people out then there should have been, and more often than not they were cops. He didn't know if it was the Batman training or something he had picked up before that but he knew when he passed through their unofficial perimeter. If he had been on foot he might have turned around and gotten out of there as unobtrusively as possible. He didn't know what kind of relationship Batman had with the police but Terry liked to stay as far away from them as possible. He found himself slowing down and almost continuously glancing in his mirrors to see if anyone was coming up behind him.

Matt finally noticed his brother's uneasiness as they stopped at a light. He twisted around trying to see what Terry had noticed, then looked back up at his brother.

"What?" Terry didn't answer, just glanced over his shoulder again. Matt reached forward and tried to shake his brother. "What is it? Tell ME."

Matt couldn't see Terry roll his eyes what with the helmet and all. He tugged at Terry's shirt again, leaning and twisting around still trying to figure it out. Terry gunned the bike as the light turned green causing Matt to grab onto him again, nearly losing his balance. They turned into a crack between buildings and Matt was momentarily blinded as the buildings cut them off from any light.

Coming out of the ally the bike made a sharp turn, bouncing off the sidewalk and sending up a spray of water as it hit the street. Terry managed to control the slide but was forced to slow down as he went deeper into the area the police had claimed. Something bad was coming, building in the air. Like just before a storm, growling and crackling through the sky. He didn't like it.

They turned into Union Square and Terry brought the bike to a full stop. There was a crowd of people standing there in the rain. Most of them were staring at the subway entrance; others were just looking around, bewildered. A few last people came up the steps, looking back behind them, their pants wet up to the knees.

All the street lights and neon signs around the small plaza went out. And for a moment there was only the sound of rain, power outage. How far did it go, and what had caused it? Terry didn't have time to think about the questions that had popped unasked for into his head because cutting through that brief period of silence came the sound of wrenching metal, splintering wood and something else that sent a wire of molten fire down his spine.

Then the screaming started.

* * *

Ok I realize this chapter is shorter then what I usually write but I figured it would be better to post this then fight for another who knows how long to make it longer. It's already late as it is and all that.

I had trouble with this chapter for several reasons and I wont go into them but I will say that I hope everyone is in character since I feel that they've slowly been drifting out of character for the last few chapters.

This is one of the stories I will be working on for Nano so I hope the next chapter will be posted a bit quicker then this one, who knows I might even get ahead...

once again thank you to everyone who reviewed and to Rose who is back as my beta for this chapter.


	23. Chapter 23

Gordon had been looking over the camera feeds from downtown, so she knew the second the power went out. Behind her, Thompson started ordering more cars into the affected area, getting their people and more importantly their equipment to the scene. She leaned over Samson's shoulder and tried to keep the frustration out of her voice.

"Replay the last few minutes. See if you can find the cause, and put the Union Plaza cameras up on the main screen." He nodded and isolated the feed. She watched again as people poured out of the subway, crying out in surprise and fear. She watched as a half dozen of her own men rushed into the area from different directions. Then they started to calm everyone down and the video feed cut out.

"Give me the feeds from the subway, main platform." Samson nodded replacing the plaza on the main screen.

She watched as a train arrived. People moved to get off and just as the tide of people was turning, a tide of water crashed into the tunnel. A pair of windows at the front of the train were pulverized by the torrent in the moment before the power shut off the feed.

Gordon leaned back debating her options. Until they got cars on scene they wouldn't have a visual in the area. She could trust her men to do what was needed, but without coordination, and in the middle of a black out, in the rain, things were going to go wrong. It was inevitable. Of course she had no proof this blackout was caused by Shriek, but there had to be a limit to how many things that could go crazy all at once in the same location. Ochom's razor was quite clear on that.

She made a split second decision.

"Thompson you're in charge of coordinating from here. Keep an eye on the blackout, but don't let Shriek sneak out. The perimeter is still a priority. Get the cameras back up if you can, and for God's sake don't make anything worse then it already is. I'll contact you once I'm on scene."

He didn't bother to answer her, not that she expected one, he just got to work, shouting out orders and getting the officers on scene updated as to the new situation. Say what you like about his methods, when things got right down to it, he was hell on wheels for making sense out of chaos.

* * *

Matt didn't know how to react. For all his boasting about being Robin, when the lights went out and the screaming started, he acted just like everyone else. Well... maybe not exactly like everyone else since he wasn't screaming and getting all set to panic, but it was still close. His hands had clamped down on Terry's jacket, while his pulse and breathing rate doubled.

With the power cut off so suddenly, he couldn't see a thing despite the fact that he knew the whole city couldn't possibly have lost power. There were safeguards against that kind of thing. In the sudden blackness the cries of astonishment and annoyance turned to anger, fear, and then pain, as panic washed over them in a wave. The tension that had been building sparked. If there had been more people, it might have turned into a riot, as it was, it was a close thing.

The level of noise had doubled at least, with sirens and car horns adding to the evident crashes as traffic lights went out on neighboring corners. Screams were overlaid by franticly called names in voices that were clearly near panic.

The primal instinct for light, had people grabbing for phones, pen lights. and even a few heavy duty workman's flashlights held by cops scattered throughout the crowd. Terry didn't move to get off the bike, just kept it sitting off to the side while watching silently. The lights almost made things more confusing, coming from so many directions and constantly moving as the crowd shifted.

Then as Matt watched the plaza tore itself apart.

It happened faster then he could process, and from across the square he didn't exactly have a clear view. It wasn't until later that he would piece together his memories with facts about what actually happened to make sense of it.

At that moment, it just seemed that a section of the crowd vanished. The noise level was off the charts by that point, but he could tell people were screaming by the way their mouths were moving. Then red and white lights were filling the area and the air seemed to shimmer. The still falling rain was blasted outward from a point about 50 feet away. Matt flinched as it pelted the visor of his helmet temporarily turning the world into a blurry mess.

With two of his senses effectively blocked, he felt the next wave more then he heard or saw it. The shock wave came up through the bike, and would have knocked him over if he hadn't already been clinging to Terry's back. Then his visor lit up with the distinctive color of laser fire and the cacophony turned from panicked, to the steady authority of someone taking charge.

He didn't recognize the thrumming under him as the cycle, until he found that he was moving. Terry put the cycle in gear and spun it around leaving Matt completely disoriented, as if he wasn't already. The world through his visor went dark, but the wind did at least manage to clear the water from his visor.

But it didn't make any sense, why were they leaving? Had Terry seen something to make him turn around? Were they running from something, or to something, or just getting out of the way? Terry boosted them up onto the curb sending up a spray of water in the process. This time Matt wasn't ready for it. He lost hold of his brother's jacket, flying and falling back through the dark.

He landed hard but they hadn't had time to pick up any speed and for once the water was actually on his side, taking some of the power out of the impact. He would end up bruised, but that was all. Second night in a row, he wondered if that would become his new norm. It wasn't exactly the most pleasant aspect of his new role. He boosted himself up onto his knees and elbows, shaking the stars from his eyes and trying to reorient himself.

Terry noted his absence almost immediately and twisted around, skidding to a stop. He approached Matt slowly, expression unreadable behind his helmet. Only then did Matt have the time and whits to take a look around.

There wasn't anyone chasing them and the pair of walls between them and the square cut off most of the noise. It was still really dark but his eyes were adjusting to that. Matt took off his own helmet and sucked in a lungful of thick city air.

"Did you see what happened?" He was gasping now, quickly on his way to hyperventilating. "Some major nass is going down. We've got to do something. Did you see what happened? I didn't see, did you see?"

Terry leaned the cycle against the nearest wall, took off his helmet and offered Matt a hand. "You alright?"

Matt took a breath and nodded a few times. "I'm okay." He looked up at his brother. "Why are we leaving though? We need to go back and help, or... you do at least. I know you don't want my help."

Terry just looked at him. Matt wished he could read him, but with the dark and rain it was near impossible. He couldn't read Batman at the best times anyway.

"No."

"I promise I'll just watch this time, unless you really need help."

"No" Terry cut him off.

"Please, there isn't much time, let's just go."

"Matt, I _Can't_."

That made Matt stop. "What? I don't get it, Why?" He waved a hand back the way they had come. "They need us. They need Batman." He added 'and Robin' in his head, but didn't say as much. Right now Batman wasn't what you'd normally expect.

"I can't, I'm not Batman, alright? Right now I'm just Terry McGinnis. Right now I can't snap my fingers and magically be able to take on things that can blow up whole streets, and even if I could, I don't have the suit okay?" Terry ran his hands through his hair. He looked frustrated, angry, though at himself or the rest of the world, Matt couldn't tell. "I can't do anything." Now he was definitely angry. "I can't help anyone, but at least I can get you out of here. I can at least keep my little brother safe."

"But you went out earlier." Matt didn't get it. Terry had seemed fine when he put on the suit before, even if he was thinking about how dangerous being batman was, Terry would still help people, right?

"Matt, I can't. I don't have the suit."

Matt rolled his eyes and pushed his way forward grabbing his brother's wrist as he passed and pulling him forward until they both stood next to Terry's cycle. He forced Terry's hand down onto a blank panel just below the handles. A moment later a compartment opened showing a familiar black and red icon.

Matt knew there were several spare suits and that one was often kept in the cycle, he hadn't been positive one would be there now, but it was faster to check rather then argue the point that Terry was Batman even without the suit.

Terry's reaction wasn't what he expected though. He just looked down at the symbol he normally wore, seemingly without reaction.

An out burst of laser fire and the sound of metal twisting and glass shattering reminded Matt that they were working with a deadline, perhaps literally. Terry heard it as well.

"You are going to stay right here," he paused, "unless whatever that is comes this way, then you are going to find cover and stay safe. Do you hear me?"

Matt nodded rapidly, grinning as wide as he possibly could be.

* * *

Ian reached for the flashlight on his belt as soon as the lights went off. The crowd was quickly shifting from bewildered to outright panicked. Around him his fellow officers were yelling for people to remain calm, and having little to no success. He tried to help with about as much effect.

Through the tumult, Ian picked out a shrill whining like twisting metal and turned in time to see a section of road in front of the theater collapse, taking everyone in the area with it. People screamed in pain and fear. Those who were able made desperate attempts to climb out of the pit that was all that had remained of the subway line. As people started to realize what had happened they forgot any previous fears and pushed their way out of the area as fast as possible. Because of luck or the pouring rain, there hadn't been all that many people to begin with, thank God. Unless more of the ground started collapsing, running for the hills was probably the best idea. They would try to clear the area anyway once they had more people.

Ian dodged people, running towards the pit. It was all a jumble of concrete, rebar, and steel, in monochrome apart from the fresh splashes of blood. The sounds of pain were louder at the edge of the pit and even without being able to see because of the dark, it was horrific. He wanted to help, but couldn't for fear of making something worse.

The shrill call of twisted metal and nails on a chalkboard was repeated in a ringing siren call. Ian was pushed to cover his ears even with the earplugs he was wearing. When he opened his eyes a section of the rubble had simply disappeared. In the black space where it had been stood a white humanoid figure that all cops were trained to recognize on sight.

"Freeze Shriek!"

A few yards to Ian's right Heath had reacted faster, pulling out his gun and training it on the felon. Ian moved to back up his partner. Pulling out his own laser rifle and training it on the felon. Other cops had seen what they were doing and had come to help. Commanding voices filled the air telling Shriek again and again to kneel down and put his hands on the ground.

He seemed to turn looking around at them, though it was hard to tell with that suit. He bent his knees and spread his hands out to either side. Ian had never seen Shriek attack, but wasn't entirely surprised when the sound waved blasted the ground sending up a cloud of dust and debris. Then Shriek was coming down on top of them, propelled by the force of his blasts. His jump landed down the line of cops to Ian's left and the cluster of cops opened fire.

Ian screamed, yelling orders and obscenities at the top of his lungs along with the rest of them. Shriek shrugged off the laser fire letting his suit take care of any shots that didn't go wide. Raising one clawed circular hand he blasted a section of the defenders before turning towards where Ian stood. He seemed to stop, looking at him with an intensity that somehow made it through the mask he was wearing. Shriek lifted his arms pointing those speakers at him and Ian was absolutely certain that he was d-e-a-d Dead.

Light flooded the area and three police cruisers dropped down out of the cloud layer pointing their floodlights down on the center of the plaza. Loudspeakers blasted something that Ian honestly couldn't understand. He was still reeling from his life flashing before his eyes.

Shriek seemed to shrink back a bit at the sudden backup, turning away from the men on the ground since they posed him no threat, and aiming his sound cannons up at the hovering vehicles. Someone up there got trigger happy, or maybe they had just seen him in action before and decided to take pre-emptive strike.

Ian was pushed, thrown back as the ground under him was blasted out from under him, falling into the pit, that a moment before, he had been standing at the edge of. The world narrowed to only him and the fact that he was falling, trying to stay upright, trying not to break his legs or any other part of himself for that matter. He called out in pain as he hit the bottom and found himself mostly unharmed apart from numerous scrapes and a possibly twisted ankle. He looked up at the scene above him now and maybe he had hit his head on the way down because all he could think of was that he was at the movies and someone had put on an action flick with the sound turned up too far.

The cruisers swooped low and Shriek was pushed back until he turned blasting the nearby buildings trying to bring debris down on them. They shot back and the larger laser cannons succeeded in doing what the smaller handheld versions had failed to accomplish. Shriek was pushed backwards flaying through the air as the blast burned it's way through the outer layers of his armor. He hit the glass windows outside the theater, and crashed into the sign for the current headliner "Stop the world I want to get off." Ian had to agree with the sentiment, the world was spinning far to fast at the moment.

Shriek turned, pulling himself to his feet and aiming a few more sonic blasts at the sky, slowly retreating into the building. From his vantage point at the bottom of the pit Ian could see Shriek turn as soon as he was out of the cruiser's line of fire and run deeper into the building.

Some part of Ian's brain must have still been working, because he stumbled to his feet shouting for the felon to stop. He turned and started scrambling up over the blocks of concrete and up the opposite side of the crevasse to stand at the shattered glass doors of the theater looking in. A stand full of pamphlets had been knocked over at some point spilling playbills across the floor. He stumbled forward over the broken glass. The curtain of water parted around him then closed again behind him and he found himself in the silent entry hall.

It was almost a shock after the noise outside, but the high ceilings and curved walls somehow managed to cut off all sound from outside apart from the now torrential rain. The water had crept inside spilling across the floor reflecting the light from the flashlight that he had somehow managed not to lose. The painted vines on the walls seemed to sway in the twisted reflected light that came through the glass skylights.

Shriek had managed to vanish in the time it had taken Ian to climb out of the pit, but there weren't exactly too many places he could have gone. He checked his gun on reflex and after carefully checking to make sure Shriek wasn't going to jump out behind him Ian crossed to the main theater doors, and found them to be open by a crack. He listened at the door and heard a pair of voices overlaid by several voices whispering in low tones.

He turned off his flashlight and slipped inside as quietly as he could. Shriek was standing in the center of the front row, just below the stage. He had one of his killer speakers pointed up at the actors who had apparently been the ones protesting. Shriek was otherwise turned toward the audience. He was speaking in a tone that was just this side of furious and somewhere past logical thought.

"Now that I have your attention, let's make one thing clear. I have no qualms about killing any or all of you. So stay in your seats and try not to draw my attention." He looked over the crowd for someone to make an example of before carelessly blasting part of the set just for the effect of seeing everyone cower.

Ian crept into an empty seat in the back row and tried to figure out what to do now.

* * *

Terry clambered up over the edge of the roof and looked over the plaza. It was a disaster area. Most of the civilians had cleared out by then, the ones that weren't trapped in the pit or under debris. Cops had swarmed the area and though most were focused on Shriek others were making an effort to help anyone who was injured.

Then the police cruisers descended through the cloud bank and lit up the plaza like a christmas tree. Red and blue lights danced off the buildings and the ground was cut by harsh fluorescence. Terry instinctively leaned back into the shadows. The suit may have had camouflage, but that didn't make him feel any better about being dressed up in a bat suit and pretending to be some kind of super-hero. That comparison still didn't sit right with him.

Shriek reacted badly to the incoming cops, blasting them with those sonic blasts that seemed to be his main weapons. The cops fired back despite the men on the ground which clearly outlined how dangerous they thought this guy was. Then Shriek retreated into the building followed by a single cop before the order came through to stand ground and establish a perimeter. Terry flipped through his visor settings and realized why they weren't pursuing full force. Hell, that one cop probably hadn't gotten the message. The theater had about two hundred people inside all of whom were now in the firing line. Protocol being what it was, the cops now had no choice but to start negotiations. Even without superhero knowledge Terry knew there was nothing good that could come of that.

He looked over the square really hoping there was some way out of this. The suit was pushing him, urging him forward. The way it amplified his every shift and movement. The power was astounding and the part of him that wanted to unleash it was slipping forward and threatening to take control. He didn't want to be in the suit, but Matt was right these people needed help. From the look of it, they needed a lot of help.

The police couldn't act now and of course that meant the hostages were toast. Terry could see his way in if he chose to get involved and even though he was still really didn't want to do this, it seemed inevitable. The problem was that he was still not great when it came to flying and to get inside he would have to cross the square in the sight of all those cops and everyone else.

Of course the power was still out so he would be less visible and all the cars down there had their spotlights pointed down which would blind anyone below. Generally speaking he should be hard to see. Oh who was he kidding, he knew no one was going to see him he just didn't want to make a fool of himself, which was definitely one of the options here. It seemed to be either that, or letting that darkness in again, and the time for making the choice was rapidly dwindling.

He reminded himself that the people in that theater needed his help, and let himself fall off the building. Like before, instinct or muscle memory or whatever else it was took over and he kicked on the boots opened the wings and was flying.

For a moment he forgot everything in the shear amazing fact that he was flying, without a plane, without a parachute, or a glider, just him and the suit. Then the roof of the theater was below him and he cut the rockets flipping his feet forward letting his momentum carry him into a running landing. It wasn't the most graceful of acrobatics but he probably hadn't embarrassed himself too badly.

A set of large skylights provided him with a view of the lobby of the building. Through the water streaked glass, the interior of the building was a blur of blues and grays. He just caught the shadow of a closing door to the main theatre. Opening the skylight he was able to slip inside pressing himself to the door of the theatre without making a sound. Shriek was in there, he could hear him. He was speaking to the audience telling them how he wouldn't hesitate to kill them.

He wanted to go in there and beat him to a pulp. He wanted to make him run. He wanted to make him so desperate to get away that he would run to the arms of the police just to escape. He could do it. He couldn't remember what powers or specialties this guy had but a part of him knew that didn't matter. It was tempting, oh it was so tempting, to cut lose and see what he could really do against someone who was fighting back. That kind of power, that kind of thrill, it was the kind of thing he had once lived for. It would be so easy to slip back into that personality. He waited listening through the door, trying to think of a way he could act without giving in to that darkness.

Then somewhere in the dark he heard a sound that made up his mind for him. Tears, a child or maybe a young woman crying in fear. An image flashed through his mind. That could have been Dana, or Matt, or Max, or half a dozen others. He saw it as if it was them, his family, his friends, there in those seats being threatened, and his will broke.

His last thought before the dark half of him took over was, "Be smart."

"Be smart and protect them, keep them safe."

* * *

I Am so Sorry that I haven't updated this chapter took longer then I though it would and then I couldn't get in contact with people to Beta. I can't promise that it doesn't happen again but I will try.

Thank you to: zelda-rules, Jimmy Candlestick, nequam-tenshi, Lenorathetrekkie, V, and Harm Marie for reviewing, they make me very happy and write faster and all that.

:)


	24. Chapter 24

Partners Chapter 24

Wayne was carefully monitoring all police frequencies when the light on his console turned on. It took him a moment to realize what the light meant, especially considering that Terry had left the suit in the medical room. Of course it would make sense for them to have a spare suit, probably several spare suits so that one would always be at hand if needed. The boy must have come across a problem and activated one of those. He switched over one of the screens to monitor and record the boy's actions. Considering the circumstances, the boy probably didn't remember that this wasn't his battle alone.

* * *

Matt waited until Terry had donned the Bat suit and scaled one of the nearby buildings before pulling his belt out from under his shirt. If Terry had been serious about him staying there he clearly hadn't been thinking straight. He was going to need help and Robin was going to provide it.

Matt made sure there was no one around to see him before he pulled out the mask that he had added to the belt when he had restocked it. He didn't have the full costume but the mask and a pair of gloves would do until he could get the rest of his costume sorted out. With the red jacket he was wearing no one would realize the difference from a distance, if he was careful. What he really needed was something like Terry's, with the microcircuits and the cervos, only with a different look. The old tech was great as far as it went but he couldn't wait to design something new.

He pulled out the grappling hook that had been the first thing he added to the belt and aimed at the upper ledge of the building next to him. This was something he was looking forward to, it was classic Batman. Even though he had managed to pull out the grapple when he fell off the mall he didn't really think that counted. He braced himself in case of recoil and pulled the trigger with the grapple in both hands. The hook shot up towards to the rooftops with a puff of air and a nearly soundless hiss.

He had never been afraid of heights but he couldn't help pausing before clicking the button that retracted the cable. He shot upwards, his stomach dropping into his shoes, as conscious thought took a back seat to exhilaration. He was flying, looking straight out at the skyline of the city. Matt spread his arms wide as he was flung up past where the hook had gripped onto the building, and into the top of his arc. For a moment he was weightless above the heart of the city, surrounded by lights, bursts of color. The city looked different from up there, but before he could put his finger on exactly what it was, he started to fall.

He hit the edge of the roof with his middle, his hands scrambling for purchase as his feet tried to push him fully up and over, onto the roof. He sucked in air desperately as he rolled forward to land sprawled out on his back. A moment later he popped his head up over the edge of the roof and looked around.

Below him the square was a mess of miniature people dashing in and out of circular areas of harsh light. Two of the police cruisers had landed near the crack that stretched across the open space in a sharp diagonal line. Another two cruisers were hovering between the second and third story level above the pit illuminating it with their floodlights. The three remaining cruisers were trying to cover the rest of the square with limited success. Two of them slowly shifted position a story or so below where Matt was watching while the third was stationary in the air above the center of the plaza at a level slightly above Matt.

He spotted Batman landing on the roof of the theater. This was where he had to be careful. He had all the Robin equipment he had managed to gather earlier, but he didn't have the uniform it's self meaning: first he had no armor, and second no one would recognize him as Robin. That second wouldn't have been such a bad thing except that it would be easier to figure out who he was and that part couldn't be good. He would have to be careful not to be seen, or only at a distance, but there was no way he was going to let Terry go over there on his own when he was like this.

For a moment Robin considered looping his way around the square to the Theater via the rooftops, but he discarded that idea given how much time it would take. The faster way would be to just go straight across the square, and after finding out how mind-blowingly fun the grapple was he was all set to try a longer jump.

He paused for a moment to look around. It wasn't that he was afraid, at this point he was too excited for that, but unlike before there wasn't an obvious choice of something to grapple to. In that way going straight across the square many wasn't the best idea. The building behind the theater was tall enough to provide the grapple point, but Matt got this terrible image of him slamming face first into the wall like one of those old cartoons when he started considering it. Plus he didn't think he had enough rope to hook into something that far.

The only other tall building within range was off to his left, and though he might have tried to swing around it somehow, he probably would've ended up as another cartoon style pancake. This left option number three.

The single cruiser above Matt was almost equidistant between him and the theater rooftop. It hung at just the right height to provide a relatively gentle swaying, and it hadn't moved for at least the last seven minutes. Grappling to the cruiser would probably be about fifteen thousand times more dangerous than going around via the rooftops, not to mention flashier, but there was a part of him that was absolutely dying to try it.

He might've been put off if the cruisers had been moving but in fact most of them were stationary in the air. Their floodlights were providing the only major source of light for the plaza below. If he thought of them as just stationary objects then it actually wasn't all that hard of a jump. It wasn't even a jump at all really; it was a swing like the one out at the lake that people used to hurl themselves out over the water.

Robin checked the grapple carefully making sure that the line had been properly reeled back in from before. Aiming the grapple at the higher cruiser he made sure that he had a straight line to the far building. The theater rooftop stretched out across from him. Taking careful aim he once again positioned himself to fire, took a breath, and pulled the trigger.

This time instead of retracting the line and pulling himself up he just made sure the line was taught before climbing up onto the edge of the roof and letting himself swing. It was like any other swing set except 1000 times larger with 1000 times more feeling. Holding desperately to the end of the grapple he outlined a curve through the sky. The square seemed to twist bellow his feet, far below, the open air suddenly seeming a lot thinner then it had before. As he watched the roof of the theater come up ahead and below of him he almost forgot how to let go, his fingers scrambling over the grapple, desperately trying to hit the right button without loosing his hold all together.

He reached the top of his arc, and had just started to swing back when something clicked and he found himself falling and rolling over the gently sloping tiles of the theater roof. Matt started to slide towards the edge, desperately clutching the rain slick tiles in an effort to bring himself to a stop. It was over 5 feet before his numbed hands managed to grab onto something solid. His body continued sliding for a few more feet before he finally came to a full stop.

Matt slowly looked up and around trying to find out if anyone had seen the stunt. No one seems to be screaming and pointing from below, which he decided was a good thing, and the vehicle which had assisted his jump didn't look any worse for wear. Perhaps most importantly Terry wasn't bending over him and ordering him down off the roof. In fact, Batman was nowhere to be seen. Matt did a quick mental check and located the skylights that Terry had been standing next to the last time Matt had seen him. Nope, no Batman.

He tried to stand, but immediately wobbled and started to slide again, latching back onto the pipe that had saved him before. The second time he tried he was more careful, and made sure his feet would go out from under him at the first opportunity. Note to self add boots to the Robin costume. On toes and fingertips he spidered his way across to where he had last seen his brother.

The skylight was centrally located above the entryway outside the main theater. On average the place didn't look too much the worse for wear considering the power was out and there was a newly created pit about 5 feet outside the front door. All the gigantic explosions and laser fire had only managed to knock over stands and pamphlets and such. The building itself seems to be quite well-built, considering it was completely ancient. He would have to do his best not to blow it up.

He opened the skylight a crack in order to better see inside. The foyer looked empty at a glance which was both a good and the bad thing. No spectators around was of course considered good but Batman had disappeared as well.

He hooked the end of the grapple to the edge of the window, securing it there in order to descend. Seriously, how did Terry manage without one of these, it was amazing. He lowered himself to the ground slowly, and as silently as he could manage. The noise from outside would probably cover anything he did but, just in case, he was being extra careful.

Matt still didn't know precisely what was going on. Unlike Batman he didn't have the police receiver in his cowl. He didn't have a cowl at all for that matter. Whoever had caused the blackout, the destruction of Union Square, and most likely called all the police into the area was probably major, but that only narrowed down the list so much. Mad Stan had just been taken away the other night, so that knocked him out, probably. Blight was already in custody, so again it probably wasn't him. There were plenty of others though who could cause this amount of destruction, especially with a little planning.

The floor was a layered mirror of water covered tile as he touched down. He flipped his wrist a few times, reeling the rope from his grapple back in, and hoped he wouldn't have to make a hasty exit. If he was going to admit it, he had no idea where Batman was now. They were actually three theaters in this building though only two of them were easily accessible from his present location. There would also be storage rooms for all the props, dressing rooms, lighting and sound booths, as well as ticket offices and who knew what else. If Terry had seen someone come inside here then he probably would've followed them rather than searching the rooms in any order that Matt would be able to guess.

Matt scanned the area hoping for any kind of clue, but it wasn't like he knew what he was looking for. Crossing the room slowly he paused near the main theater door. Figuring that he had to start somewhere he reached up and gently tried the handle. Almost unexpectedly, it turned. As the door slowly opened he heard the sounds it had been muffling.

The shuffling, of approximately a hundred people, uncomfortable in their seats, soft prayers muttered to the floor, a young woman crying softly in one of the back rows, whimpers and whispers from a crowd that was trying not to draw the attention of the man on the stage. Matt slipped through the crack between the doors closing it behind him lest any light from the lobby give him away. Looking around, he tried to take in everything he could about the situation. It was a black box theater maybe two to two hundred and fifty seats total and not all of them were filled. The walls and seats were covered in a dark blue fabric that looked almost black with so little illumination. The only light in the room came from the red emergency lights lining the aisles and the edge of the stage. The stage had been decked out to look like a 21st-century apartment complete with old TV a pair of ratty old couches, coffee table and bad wallpaper. On the couches set three actors, two men and a woman but the audience's attention was no longer on them.

Shriek paced back and forth from one end of the stage to the other red lights dying his suit like blood. Every so often he would look up and around pointing his sound cannons at anyone who made slightly too much noise, or looked like they were going to stand up.

From his place at the back of the theater Matt could see the whole room, from the door to the light booth off to his left, to the small orchestra pit, and the rafters where the lights were hung. The problem was that Shriek, up on the stage had pretty much the same advantage. It would be harder for him to see the audience, that was the way the room had been designed, but that wasn't enough to stop him from noticing if people started to disappear.

Matt couldn't sneak any of them out of there without some kind of distraction. Which reminded him, where was Terry? If he'd seen all this, why wasn't he here, confronting Shriek? Was there something else even worse that still didn't know about? Was there something he had missed? Matt turned around looking for something that would clue him in on the situation. What he found was actually a who. The rookie cop from the other night was sitting slumped in the back row, and watching the whole situation much like Matt was.

It was kind of surreal, to see him just sitting there. It was one of the things you would expect out of a cliché paperback novel or a poorly written Spanish soap opera. How the same characters will, through chance and circumstance end up in the same location without any rhyme or reason. Well, if this was a story, Matt reasoned, then as the main characters goofy little brother he would have comic immunity. This cheered Matt up slightly.

He slid into the same row as the cop, not caring for the moment if he was seen.

"So, what's been happening?" Matt whispered, not actually looking at the man, but keeping his eyes on shriek as he slid into the seat. The cop seemed to flinch in his seat as if he had reflexively jumped and then tried to stop himself. He glanced sideways then did a double take as he saw the child sitting there.

Matt had to admit; with only the mask he probably didn't paint the same picture as with the full ensemble.

"Umm, are you?" the cop trailed off, following Matt's lead in keeping his eyes forward.

"Costume is at the cleaners. You gonna fill me in?"

The cop, Matt tried and failed to remember his name, turned looked sideways down at him. Fear and worry were slowly overcome by an expression that was mostly disbelief. "Yeah, okay, why not? No crazier than anything else."

Matt reached over and grabbed the man's hand as Shriek turned in their direction. The Rookie had enough sense to shut up. They waited in silence until Shriek turned away again.

When the man spoke again it was in a horse whisper. "Maybe ten minutes ago, Shriek retreated into the building, I followed. He came in here, and ordered everyone to stay in their seats, and keep quiet. Since then he's just been waiting, pacing the stage like that."

"Any demands?"

"No, and he hasn't killed anyone either, which is a bit odd."

"Really?" Matt wasn't really up to speed on hostage situations. In the past Batman had pretty much ignored protocol when it came to this kind of thing.

"Yeah. When there are this many hostages, the perp will kill off a few people to show he's serious, that or let a few of them go as a gesture, don't think that's going to happen this time though."

Shriek stopped in the center of the stage, tuning one of the dials on the back of his hands. The cop bit back any further words, and went as far as holding his breath as the villain slowly turned in their direction. Shriek pointed out at the darkness, and shouted in challenge.

"I know you're there Batman, I can hear you muttering, or are you too afraid? Do you even know what I'm talking about?" Then Shriek began to laugh, it was the kind of sound that made Matt want to press his hands over his ears. Starting low it screeched its way up through the octaves, and with Shriek standing where he was, the sound was projected through the entire room. "You know, I could just kill everyone here, that would take care of you, but I'll let you off the hook. Show yourself, surrender and I might just let some of them go."

Matt leaned back in his seat. He had no doubt that Shriek was right, and Batman was close, and now it was his move. He just hoped Terry was enough of Batman at the moment to make the right one.

* * *

Barbara hated not being able to effect things. She made a mental note to put forth a request for faster cars at the next budget meeting and practically clung to the radio in an attempt to learn what was happening.

It seemed like they were still working on restoring power to the area, and what exactly had caused the blackout was still unconfirmed. There were multiple reports of encounters with, and sightings of, Shriek, so at least that part of the plan was working. He seemed to have run into a building, though she couldn't understand any more then that with all the confused chatter. One thing she did understand was that there were plenty of people in the area this time around. It was exactly the type of situation that she hated, and until she got there, there was nothing she could do about it.

She comforted herself with the fact that her people knew their roles. By the time she got there information on the situation would be waiting for her. All the civilians who could be safely moved would be out of the way, and those who needed medical attention would be moved behind the police line where nothing worse would happen to them. A perimeter would be established. Snipers would get into position if there was a chance they could make a clean shot and if it came to that. Thompson was smart enough that he would probably order a thermal imaging or something along those lines to figure out how many hostages they were dealing with and if there was a safe way to get them out.

That was when the news of a missing officer came over the radio. As if they didn't already have enough to worry about. This Gordon gritted out a number of swear words. One of these days this city was going to drive her right over the edge, and when it happened God help whoever was in the way.

Whoever it was better be able to think on their feet, because at this point they weren't going to get any help.

* * *

Batman heard Shriek's declaration from backstage. Shriek was right, Batman didn't know what he was talking about. He hadn't said a word as he crept through the building, finding his way backstage.

He peered through the cracks between the flats, watching the man in white shout at the darkness. Only when the man offered to let the hostages go did he pause.

That dark voice kept whispering to him, telling him the man was a threat. Every moment that man was conscious, every moment he was alive, people, his people were in danger. Batman could take him out. There, from the shadows, before the man even knew where he was. One quick strike. Of course, it would have to be strong enough to get through the armor. He would have to strike hard and fast, and with his weapons built into his suit the man wouldn't be truly out of the game unless he was paralyzed. Could he do it though? Take him down before the man lashed out at those nearest him. The people in the front row, not to mention the actors still onstage, a single stray gesture and they would be dead. Would even a deathblow be fast enough to save everyone?

That thought nearly brought Terry out of the dark haze he was in. He didn't kill, he couldn't kill. No, that wasn't right. He may not remember being Batman but he did remember the training at the dojo. Traditional martial arts weren't gentle, he knew plenty of killing blows, but that was only half of it. Learning how to kill was also about learning how to not kill, a fact that had been drilled into him.

Then again, with his memory loss, how could he be sure of anything? Maybe, Batman did kill. He was after all, known as a vigilante rather than a hero. The darkness pushed forward again, reminding him that he would be doing it for a good reason. All those people out there, over 200 lives, and none of them would live to walk out of this building unless he acted.

The dark slid over him again. By that point he didn't even try to fight it. He didn't think he would be able to witness the terrible deaths those sound cannons could cause without that dark shadow as a shield. He found himself growling into the dark, surprised at the concept that such a voice was his.

"Empty Threat, Shriek. You can't kill me, and everyone else you kill will just add to the amount of pain before I kill you."

Shriek spun around trying to find the source of the words, but the same acoustics that had amplified Shrieks voice had made the words echo from the far corners of the room. Batman was already moving, slipping into the shadows behind the heavy velvet curtain that separated the left half of the stage from the audience. He could see the stage much better from there, though his view of the audience was completely cut off.

Shriek seemed to boil, the red emergency lights emphasizing his obvious fury. It seemed to build for several minutes before he froze. Batman could almost see his anger go from hot to cold. Without turning away from the audience Shriek brought up his arm, pointing the sound cannon at the three actors on stage.

Batman could hear the weapon preparing to fire as the man muttered in a low growl.

"Not this time, hero."

Batman reacted, flicking his wrist with a twist he still didn't remember learning, and was almost as surprised as the audience when the red and black disk imbedded it's self in Shriek's arm, sending the blast off course. Anger quickly overcame any surprise as he fully realized what had almost occurred. He stepped forward, since his retaliation attack would have given him away in any case.

There was a collective gasp from the audience and a single cheer went up from a young man sitting in the fourth row on the left side. Batman just lowered his stance slightly, keeping his eyes on his opponent. Shriek was still ice cold. With Batman standing openly in front of him, he had exactly what he wanted.

Hello all, first I would like to say that this chapter was annoying. Sure I got through the first half just fine but then coming to Terry's section everything just kind of stopped for a while. Terry is actually one of the hardest characters for me to write in general, and in this chapter his mindset was just very difficult to get into. If anything seems strange or out of character I apologize right now.

Luckily my beta Rose managed to point out some of the more obvious flaws so hopefully there is nothing too huge.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed: Jimmy candlestick, Lenorathetrekkie, V, Preemptive Karma, Harm Marie, Teorwyn, and a very special welcome and thank you to Lacewing and MirokuTK who both reviewed saying they found this story recently, and liked it. Thank you all so much and please keep on reviewing.


	25. Chapter 25

Partners

Chapter 25

Batman and Shriek matched wills across the stage for nearly a minute before they moved. They acted in unison, Shriek leaning forward, thrusting forward both hands and sending tightly controlled beams of sound shooting at the Bat.

Batman was in full control now, not Terry. The dark spirit had drowned him in the urge for combat, causing a reaction even before he consciously registered the attack. He stepped forward and to the side with a speed that should have been impossible. He felt the edge of the strike bull past him like a speeding truck and something behind him exploded.

The part of him that was still Terry tried to react in any of the normally sane ways, like screaming, or getting the hell out of there. Batman didn't let him, instead simply taking in the power and range of the weapon and filing it away. Batman twisted, letting one hand slide past the back of his belt as Shriek tried to follow him with his cannons. His hand came around, letting the momentum from the turn send the pellets he had palmed flying at a surprising speed. His visor switched over to another setting as the flash bombs triggered in mid-air.

Shriek howled, flinching back and sending the still cascading sound waves across the stage, carving an arc out of the backdrop. The actors that had been huddling on the couch dived sideways desperately trying to find cover.

Those cannons were a problem. They were the only real weapon Shriek had used so far, and it was safe to say that devastating was an accurate description. They became the target for his next attack.

A flick of his wrist launched a pair of baterangs; only to have Shriek deflected them with a short contemptuous laugh. Shriek started talking but for once Batman wasn't in the mood for banter. He closed the distance while the other man boasted.

Batman flicked the claws on his left hand open, using them to dig into the hairline joints in the armour of Shrieks wrist. His other hand came up at his opponent's face, getting inside his defences and attempting to take his balance. Shriek tried to swat Batman away with his free left hand. By accident or intent he fired a sonic blast up into the murky gloom of the ceiling.

Where his previous shots had been tightly controlled laser fire this was a cannon ball of almost sub-sonic frequencies. For a moment Batman's world went silent as the suit shut down all external auditory input so he wouldn't be permanently deafened. It came back on just in time for him to hear the twisting screech of metal and the high pitched buzz of suddenly cut wires as the blast tore through the space above them. In the background He registered debris starting to fall. He prayed it just enough attention to make sure it wasn't going to hit him then pushed it out of his mind.

Shriek turned away from the grasping hand coming straight at his face, trying to pull his wrist out of Batman's grip. They threw their strength against each other, Shriek taking advantage of his greater size while Batman used his more solid stance to counter him.

Batman pushed forward keeping inside Shriek's range and twisting his hips enough so that the flailing blows landed mostly on his armored back. Hunching down he planted his forward foot in the middle of Shrieks stance and lowered his own, still twisting the wrist he held away at a useless angle.

Shriek saw the throw coming and used his greater weight to break Batman's stance. This time he was ready for the move, stepping out and behind Shriek. With a bump to Shriek's elbow and a twist of his free hand he twisted the man around into the beginning of an Ikkio take down.

Shriek howled, locking up his elbow and causing the cannon to go off explosively once more. Batman saw the terrified expressions on the crowd and the silent explosion at the back of the hall as his auditory input was temporarily shut off once again. He pushed all the excess information away as he used his hips to try to complete the take down. For a moment it looked like he was going to succeed before Shriek threw himself into the move, using the added momentum to pull Batman off balance. Shriek's arm was ripped out of his grip as they both tumbled into the small orchestra pit.

Batman hit hard, curling into the angle between the floor and a wall. He wad dazed even from the relatively short fall. It wasn't therefore very surprising that at first he thought the voice he was hearing was inside his own head.

"Terry it's Wayne There's a radio in your cowl, you can subvocalize to speak to me."

Batman sucked in a breath, but before he could give any kind of answer Shriek entered his vision wielding what looked like a music stand. Swinging it one-handed he practically threw himself at Batman. Forced onto the defensive, Batman rolled back and kicked out. It wasn't a strong attack, he had no leverage, but it bought him enough time to get into a more defensible, kneeling stance.

"Sub What?"

He tried to pay attention to the response, he really did, but Shriek stepped forward and began to crudely hammer away at him. Batman was forced to bring up his arms in an attempt to ward off the worst of the damage. In between the surprisingly fast attacks, and the ringing clangs they created, he did manage to catch some of what the old man said.

"Subvoca- mikes are sensitive - pick up vibrations - too low to be heard. - enemies - realize you're - someone who isn't there."

Well, that made about as much sense as, wait, no, that made absolutely no fragging sense.

"Fine, whatever, but I'm kind of in the middle of something here." Seriously, if Wayne interrupting him in the middle of a fight was a normal then Terry had to wonder how he hadn't ended up seriously injured before now.

He managed to catch the end of the music stand and twisted it out of Shriek's grasp. Not that it was all that hard, the hands on that suit of his weren't exactly made for holding things. Instead of tossing the improvised weapon aside he swung it back at Shriek's legs, forcing some distance between them as well as providing a moment to breath.

"Yes, I know. You need to get Shriek away from the hostages. If you can get him backstage the police can get them out of there." Wayne's voice came through clearly this time, and the pompous old know it all actually sounded annoyed.

"What do you think I've been trying to do?"

Shriek took advantage of the space to once again utilize his cannons, blasting away at Batman in short rapid-fire bursts. There was no time or space to move even if he could have dodged the invisible shots.

The first impact hit him in the center of his mass. Even through the suit he felt like his insides had been liquified. He barely felt the second blow hit his side and send him spinning, through all the pain. He tried to push it away gritting his teeth and using it to sharpen his focus. The third blow hit him in the small of the back and he was engulfed in a white static haze as his senses overloaded.

He tasted blood and gave up on counting the shots. He was pinned against the wall, every moment providing more pain. There was no clever way out of this one, no trick or device was going to pull his ass out of this fire.

Terry had been hurt before, maybe not on this scale, at least not that he could remember, but there were plenty of times he could remember where his mouth had gotten him into trouble. He'd been attacked by entire gangs on more than one occasion. Back then he had learned one simple thing about fighting when you're down. You can't let them get any momentum. If you let them start beating you, didn't matter if you were half dead or pleading, didn't even matter if the cops were on the way, they wouldn't stop. If you let them get started then only they would decide when it ended. If Batman let Shriek get started he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied, and in this case satisfied almost definitely meant dead.

He drew up all the anger and fear and determination he had, throwing it at the pain in a thinly layered defense. He howled, twisting to face Shriek and bulling straight for him. The rockets in his boots came to life as he hit his opponent like a linebacker; shoving his shoulder up into Shriek's breastbone and grabbing the man's waist.

Batman had misjudged the force the suit gave him, with Shriek caught off guard and not braced for the attack, the two combatants were propelled through the air in an arc that took them out of the orchestra pit and crashing into the floor to ceiling velvet curtains which covered the left half of the stage.

They hit about fifteen feet off the ground, entangling themselves as the mass of fabric ripped free from the ceiling and collapsed on top of them. Batman released Shriek as gravity reached up and grabbed hold of them once more.

He tried to fly away, to get out from under the wave of fabric, but whatever had been guiding Terry's actions through the fight, abandoned him, as he desperately tried to remember what it was that triggered the wings. As he hit the ground his head decided to imitate a soccer ball.

Someone was speaking to him and he tried to answer, but even in the dark the world wouldn't stop spinning. He didn't try to move. A voice that sounded like his moms spoke from a memory, about how head injuries could be messy if people tried to move too soon. In any case with the pain, the weight of the curtain pressing down on him and the receding anger he didn't think he could move.

He slowly sucked in a breath and tried not to black out.

* * *

Matt, Robin, he may not have the costume at the moment but he was still Robin, looked up at the stage. At Batman's appearance he had gone still and silent. He wasn't hiding, no, he was just watching very carefully, yeah that was it, watching. Beside him the cop went from shell shocked to contemplative.

"Can he distract Shriek long enough for us to get these people out?"

Robin glanced at him. "Probably. If I could tell him without paining a target on us. Any help from… umm, your radio is blinking."

The cop turned, laying his hand over the softly blinking red light. The two of them looked at each other, then turned to look up at Shriek. The villain's attention was apparently fully occupied, they hadn't been noticed. Robin ducked down behind the seats and gestured for the cop to keep watch as he fiddled with the radio. He turned off the sound and instead tuned his ear bud in to the police frequency.

He immediately heard the frantic chatter as half a dozen groups tried to coordinate with a rather confusing chain of command. Robin paused, mentally mapping out who was where and doing what. They seemed to be using numbers to tell who was who and where, with unit one being whoever was in charge outside. When he knew the basic movements of the cops outside he turned on the borrowed radio, and spoke in a low whisper.

"Unit one, this is Robin. I have eyes on the inside, do you copy?"

There was a surprised silence for a second or two before the answer came.

"We copy, what is your situation?"

"Main theater, about two hundred in the audience, with three actors on stage. I think the rest got away, or maybe they're hiding, or something. Shriek and Batman are fighting up on the stage. No one's been killed yet." a particularly loud explosion cut off the second half of his sentence. "May have spoke too soon." he said risking a glance from behind his shelter. The battle had apparently moved into the orchestra pit. With the limited light Robin couldn't tell much more then the fact that Batman was still active, and Shriek was still fighting back. "Listen, we need to get these people out of here. I went through the lobby, maybe five minutes ago and it was empty. We can give you a heads up if Shriek heads in that direction."

"Incoming." shouted the cop, pulling Robin bodily into the isle as a blast scoured the back wall down to the soundproof padding. Robin took a moment to pull air back into his lungs. He stared up at the shadowed ceiling with the cop sprawled beside him. He really had to remember that guy's name, it had been something short he remembered that much.

Slowly his eyes came back into focus, though it wasn't much different considering that seeing was something of a luxury at the moment. From his vantage point, nearly on top of the emergency lighting, the illumination seemed to backlight the whole world, or at least that patch of ceiling directly overhead. He paused and actually looked at the ceiling. The idea that formed was a crazy one, and he absolutely loved it.

"You," Robin pointed at the cop, pushing himself up from the ground. "Stay here. I'll give you a distraction, get everyone out and tell Gordon we'll deal with Shriek." he didn't wait for the man to nod, just turned and ducked behind the last row of seats heading for the door marked "backstage".

* * *

"I know you're there Batman, I can hear you muttering, or are you too afraid? Do you even know what I'm talking about?" He laughed like a man with a stranglehold on the few pieces of sanity he had left. "You know, I could just kill everyone here, that would take care of you, but I'll let you off the hook. Show yourself, surrender and I might just let some of them go."

The computer had automatically identified the voice as Shriek, a villain who had quite a history with Terry according to the files. Bruce had been trying to find an obvious weakness when the mike in Terry's monitor picked up the words. He looked up at the screen, then ordered the computer to play back the lines.

There was something off about what Shriek had said. A simple algorithm created a text version of the audio file, letting him study it without the intonations and emphasis. He went over the monologue sentence by sentence as Terry began fighting on the other end of the line. For a moment Bruce was torn between concern for his student and the matter at hand but Logic quickly reasserted it's self. He could do nothing for Terry from here except provide guidance and information. If there was a clue in these words, he would find it.

He found the first inconsistency in the second sentence. The mike in the cowl was fine enough to pick up sub-vibration; Terry hadn't said a word. By the same coin, Shriek was a sound expert if he said he heard muttering then there must have been a reason. The question followed then, Why had Shriek thought he heard Batman?

The taunt about being afraid was common enough so he passed over it to the next section. 'Do you even know what I'm talking about?' the question didn't make any sense. That had been what set him off laughing so there was some importance there

The importance of the line flooded over him in a moment of insight. Shriek knew about the memory loss. He hadn't gleaned the information through contact either, he knew before he had seen Terry act. He was boasting.

The computer recognized a new voice through the police frequencies: Robin. "Unit one, this is Robin. I have eyes on the inside, do you copy?"

Bruce turned his mind back to the matter at hand. Time enough to ask the hard questions when none of them were fighting for their lives.

The police responded predictably. They didn't even verify the boy's identity. Then of course there was the question of how Matt had gotten himself into such a situation in the first place. When this was finished he would have to have a talk with him.

Robin outlined the situation for the police. At least he was making intelligent choices it seemed. Getting the hostages out was indeed a priority, although it wasn't the only thing hindering the operation.

Bruce flipped up the switch to establish a link with the suit. "Terry-" he was cut off by a muffled grunt that might have possibly held an expletive. "Terry, it's Wayne. There's a radio in your cowl, you can subvocalize to speak to me."

"Sub What?" was the boy's response between the muffled grunts and screeching of combat.

"Subvocalize." Wayne spoke slowly so that Terry would hopefully understand him. "The mikes are sensitive enough to pick up vibrations even if you are speaking too low to be heard. That way your enemies won't realize you're having a conversation with someone who isn't there."

"Fine, whatever, but I'm kind of in the middle of something here."

"Yes, I know. You need to get Shriek away from the hostages. If you can get him backstage the police can get them out of there."

There was a pause filled with several grunts, as well as a number of oofs and thuds before Terry responded. When he did answer his voice was tense and angry, filled with dark fire and venom.

"What do you think I've been trying to do?" Terry started to say more but was apparently distracted.

Bruce tapped into the suit's censors and did a sweep of the area as Terry managed to move the fight back out of the orchestra pit and bring down the left side curtains.

"The area under the stage is empty. There are two trap doors, first one is four feet to your left."

Terry grunted in response, but didn't move. Bruce waited, watching the reports he was getting from the suit. Seconds ticked by until he realized that he was sitting there waiting for an event that he could not predict or effect. Bruce growled at himself cursing the lack of forethought. If he waited until someone needed him he would move to late to help them. He had to predict what would be needed, shape how events would fall out.

He broadened his thoughts and saw where he was needed.Terry seemed to have not even noticed the blackout but the others were being seriously hampered by it. Finding the source of the blackout and fixing it would be time consuming. Bypassing the whole problem and rerouting power into the area through the old systems wouldn't work for long, an hour at best but, provided the old wiring held up, but it would do for the moment. He set about making it happen.

* * *

First off, this this chapter marks the one year anniversary of this story. I first posted chapter one on January 9th one year ago. I always knew I wouldn't abandon this story but I had no idea it would grow into something this big.

Thank you to everyone who has been along for the ride, lets have another good year hopefully finish off this thing properly.

And now back to your regularly scheduled author's comment.

Here's a fun fact about this chapter: Terry's section was actually written last. I started with the first half of Matt's section then wrote Bruce's section, finished up with Matt and only then went back to write Terry's section. And let me tell you that fight scene was not easy.

I must also thank both Rose, and River's Dream for betaing this chapter. When I realized the aniversery was coming up I was frantic but both of them managed to get edited versions back to me in less then 48 hours. They deserve a round of applause. Clapclapclapclapclap

and thank you to V, Aura-leek, Harm Marie, Lenorathetrekkie, Jimmy Candlestick, Ethuil, MirokuTK, and Fireinu for reviewing.

Cheers and have a happy new year everyone.


	26. Chapter 26

Robin jerked open the door to the lighting booth, and threw himself into the controller's chair. The one way glass gave him a view of the whole theater from the rafters at the back of the room. The catwalks stretched out ahead of him, precarious avenues of black metal and wire.

He had had a half formed plan to distract Shriek with the lights when he had bolted up the stairs but of course the power was still out.

Batman suddenly came blasting out of the orchestra pit taking Shriek along for the ride. Robin watched as they hit one of the curtains. They fell, bringing the curtain down with them. In one viscous moment Robin saw Batman's head bounce sharply as he hit the stage. Shriek came down a moment later a few paces to the left, with the curtain atop them both.

Robin leaned forward knuckles white on the edge of the lighting board. At that distance he couldn't tell if Terry was alright. It was too much. He knew Terry sometimes got hurt, but seeing his head hit the ground like that. Robin looked down focusing on carefully taking in one slow breath after another.

Under his hands something thrummed. Robin blinked as a green light came on, somehow he had power. Franticly he started flipping switches and pressing buttons but nothing responded. The fragging thing was doing a systems check after shutting down unexpectedly. Robin groaned, trying to remember why he shouldn't smash the ridiculous contraption.

Movement caught his eye under the curtain and all other problems were forgotten. Grabbing a headset he flipped a pair of switches and ducked out onto the catwalks. Normally he would have been fine strolling along the thin beams, using the single guide rail to lend him speed, rather than prevent the possible 40 foot fall into the seating below. If this were an average day though, he wouldn't be there at all, let alone on the catwalks, staring down at the twitching curtain covering the form of his possibly dead brother.

They're right when they say don't look down, it's never a good idea. Every footfall elicited a range of sounds, each of which threatened to send him falling to his death. That threat was growing stale however after jumping or falling off as many roofs as he had in the past few nights.

The movement under the curtain became more purposeful leading Robin to increase his speed as much as he dared. The catwalks were set up on a grid so that the lights hanging beneath them would be at different angles to the stage. Robin half ran half swung down towards the stage, ducking into the row he hoped was directly above the scene. Under the curtain, the lump of movement reached the edge flipping back the weighted fabric.

One of the only reasons Robin hadn't been completely panicked was because he had convinced himself that it was Batman who was moving under there. Batman would push the curtain aside, showing himself to be injured but victorious. He would tie Shriek up and they would all go home. When Shriek pushed the curtain aside and slowly stood up from his crouch a good portion of Robin's mind shut down. Running down that trail of logic was simply more then he could handle. Instead the more primal reaches of his mind took over.

He wanted to start whacking Shriek, as if he was a bug who wouldn't die no matter how many times you hit it. He even looked like a bug from that hight, his dented armor shining in the red light like a beetles shell. Without thinking Robin had continued walking until he was almost directly over Shriek.

The man had his back to the audience, one arm held strangely, as if it obviously pained him. Reaching forward Shriek lifted the corner of the curtain with his good hand and started tugging it away. Robin crouched as the fabric caught on the other figure beneath it. Shriek took a shambling step, ending up directly under Robin. Without really thinking, Robin reached for the heavy stage light clamped to the safety bar. He detached the safety wires, then with a few quick twists loosened the bolts holding it in place.

The miniature searchlight fell almost gracefully, and in perfect silence for several seconds. Shriek stepped to one side just in time to avoid the improvised weapon. Instead of hitting him straight on the small explosion of glass and metal struck him with a wave of shrapnel and raw noise.

It was like a flip had been switched, and once again things were happening almost too fast to follow. Shriek turned looking up at the ceiling and visibly angry. Robin reacted without thought, reaching for the next light and scrambling through the process of loosing it. There was a second crash as it hit the stage two feet to the left of the first light. Someone started screaming and that seemed to set off the whole room in a panic. The audience scrambled over the seats and each other trying to get as far away as possible.

Shriek seemed to be as single minded as everyone else at that moment. He howled in rage and blasted up into the dark as Robin managed to release his next missile. The sound cannon tore though the catwalk half a dozen feet to Robin's left. The blast ripped apart a section of metal nearly ten feet across, sending the pieces to tangle with the rest of the scaffolding and wire crisscrossing the area. The rippling shockwave knocked Robin sideways causing him to desperately cling to the railing.

Several rows back the spotlights began to come on, shooting beams of multicolored light on what remained of the stage. Robin noted that at some point the actors had managed to get away; good for them. Shriek reeled back bringing up a hand to shield his eyes as he continued to search for the one responsible for trying to crush him with lighting implements.

Robin didn't even consider trying to hide, even though the added light would make him more visible as soon as Shriek's eyes adjusted. In truth he wasn't thinking that far ahead. He grabbed for the next light, going down the line, tossing them like bowling balls in Shrieks direction.Shriek sent another concussive wave of sound skyward. The shockwave blasted Robin off his feet sending him twisting through the air. Somehow he managed to catch hold on one of the few wires still attached to the ceiling, clinging to the thread as a literal lifeline.

That was apparently the last straw. Sections of the ceiling came down, scattering metal and stone in the biggest cacophony yet. Robin was tossed turned and seemingly blasted from every direction. He couldn't have acted even if he had wanted to. He just held onto his lifeline and tried to survive the next few seconds.

When the rumbling stopped an eon later he finally opened his eyes to survey the damage. At first he wasn't sure what he was seeing, there was so much dust, debris and just plain gloom in the air. Even though it'd only been for a minute his eyes had gotten used to the extra light, and now with them gone the room had been once more cast into shadow apart from the light now coming in through the hole in the roof. In the echoing silence that followed his mind finally managed to reboot.

The rush of activity had exhausted him, which wasn't helped by the fact that his body wasn't prepared for things like this. Last night he had fallen off a building only to end up going at it with a man who was the definition of mad. Less then twenty four hours later here he was swinging across rooftops. Nothing from his life before could come remotely close to the raw physical exertion and that was only half of it. The mental stress of the roller-coster experiences were wearing him down. How Terry managed to keep the secret after things like that.

Terry.

Terry had been under the curtain. The same curtain that had been on the stage with Shriek. That was right where he had been dropping lights, and under where the ceiling had collapsed. A new wave of panic completely different from the first rolled over him. Before his fear had been animalistic, primal, this was a cold rational fear that slammed home around his mind like a vault.

He couldn't feel his fingers as he scrambled on his belt for the grapple. He was forced to move slowly because when he moved any faster his hands shook too bad. The rope he was clinging to twisted, spinning him in lazy circles making it hard to aim the fragged thing. He managed to hook the grapple into one of the surviving ceiling beams, slowly lowering himself down to the stage.

It was surreal. A pair of spotlights at the back of the room had survived illuminating patches of the stage with pools of red and blue. Shriek lay under a pile of debris in a pose that should have been dramatic but instead just looked wrong. Robin couldn't decide whether the red curtain looked more like a shag carpet or a pool of blood. The rain coming through the hole in the roof was the only thing that moved.

Batman, where was he, where was Terry?

Robin shifted, sliding forward without disturbing the feeling in the air. He thought he knew where Terry had been, but it looked different now. He stepped through a curtain of rain and looked down at the spot where Batman had fallen.

* * *

Ian half dragged the last of the audience members out onto the street where the other officers took charge of them. From the moment Robin had abandoned him he had started directing the back rows of people out of there. Robin had certainly carried through with the distraction. It had been a close thing to get everyone out in time and there were no shortage of injuries because of it. Moving on auto pilot he turned around heading back inside as if to grab more people.

Cops were securing the lobby by now but Ian barely saw them. The theater door was hanging open. Stepping though it he was just in time to see Robin descend, following the path of the rain to the stage. Ian hesitated, coming to a stop.

The truth was, he was already more embroiled in this then any smart cop ever wanted to be. There was a reason that most heroes had super powers, simply put it was hard to survive that life without them. Cops were the ones who walked the edge. Step too far over the line into hero territory and you were likely to end up dead.

Robin stood there stained red by the lights. Ian knew he wasn't wearing his costume but with the lighting and the rain not only could he not tell, but it was like Robin had planned it that way. Shriek lay to one side, near the boy's feet. The dirt on his white armor made it look like it had aged years. The boy slowly stepped forward, the rain giving him a misty aura. Another step, and he was gone.

Ian tried to cry out only to find he had been holding his breath, he choked instead. Sucking in air he forced both his lungs and his mind to get moving. He turned checking all the dark corners, checking row by row that the room was clear. By that point other officers were joining him, weapons at the ready and altogether more professional then he was currently being. He spared a moment to wonder where his own firearm had gotten to. Had he lost it back in the pit outside? Must have been.

A hand landed firmly on his shoulder.

He turned to find Barbra Gordon glaring at him with more intensity then he had known was possible. To hell with Shriek, Commissioner Gordon had just jumped to the top of his "scariest things I've lived to tell about" list. Though to be honest, the night was still young, there was still a chance he wouldn't live to see morning.

"Do you have any idea how many regulations you are breaking just by standing here?" her voice was a tightly controlled whisper promising a very painful death.

"No?"

She didn't speak, using her breathing to control her fury as she decided his fate. Her eyes piled him apart layer by layer, only to stop. She grabbed ahold of his chin yanking him down to her level and studying his eyes.

"Damn it Hawk, when were you injured? You pupils are different sizes, you probably have a concussion. Have you even bothered to get yourself checked out?"

"Ummm"

She threw her hands up. "Rookies, I swear, you'll all drive me mad, the lot of you, if the bad guys don't put me in the ground first." she stabbed a finger at his chest. "You," and then down at the nearest of the surviving theater seats. "Sit! The next time you move better be by a doctor's order, or I swear I will have your badge."

He did as told.

It was actually the first time he had really had a chance to breath since Shriek had blasted his way up out of the ground. He leaned back assessing himself, and realized that she was right. He hurt. The adrenalin was wearing off, and his head was starting to pound. He didn't remember getting injured, but at some point something must have happened.

Around him people moved, clearing rubble from the walkways, setting up portable spotlights, trying to get the beam off of Shriek. He closed his eyes,eyes; a headache was striking lightning behind them. People were talking but half the sounds didn't seem to make any sense.

It was over. The good guys had won, the people were safe and they'd probably be doing the paperwork for the next two weeks. Someone had hooked a Firefly pulse charge to Shrieks suit, so he wouldn't be causing any more problems, even if he wasn't still trapped under half the ceiling. Ian's fellow cops didn't seem to be in any hurry to dig the villain out.

One of the medics came over at some point, kneeling down next to him. He asked all the normal questions, then shone some lights and checked some readings. Ian drifted. The medic finally proclaimed that he had a minor concussion and should take the next few days off. If anything worsened or if his symptoms increased and so on and and so on.

Heath was the one who pulled him out of it. Ian's partner came barreling down the isleaisle without regards for the scene or the established protocol. "Ian, hay Hawk. God man, are you alright? When you ran in here I would have bet you were a dead man."

"I have a concussion and the commissioner personally ordered me not to move, so obviously I am quite dead." It came out in a subtly calm tone, most likely due to his growing exhaustion. Heath let out a bark of laughter that drilled it's self into Ian's brain with vicious pleasure.

"You know I can't decide if you have the best luck in the world or the worst. You may still be alive but you've got Gordon's attention now."

"Heath,"

"I mean, talk about being put on the spot."

"Heath, shut up a minute."

Their relationship mostly consisted of Heath talking and Ian pretending to listen. Ian was only that blunt when it was important. He shut up.

"What I need right now is as much peace and quiet as is can get. I'm going to watch them load Shriek into the crazy wagon, then go home and use all those sick days I have saved up. If you want to help me out you can go do my paperwork so it won't pile up while I'm gone."

"That supposed to be funny? Cause if so you picked a strange time to start growing a sense of humor."

Ian shook his head. "I've only had about two hours sleep in the last 48." his head was in his hands, thumbs rubbing at his temples. Heath finally seemed to get it. He clapped Ian on the shoulder as he turned to go.

"Don't let it break you."

Ian nodded at the familiar saying. Gotham cops saw the worst of the worst. If you let it get to you, you were done. End of story.

* * *

Robin didn't hesitate when he saw the trap door. It was less than two feet from where Terry had fallen and half covered by the curtain. Terry must have escaped into the space beneath the stage. There was no sign of him anywhere else. Robin stepped forward and let himself fall.

He hit the bottom before the grapple could slow his decent. The six foot drop provided just enough distance to make the landing a hard one. His feet hit the ground and his knees buckled under him landing him on his back with the wind knocked from his lungs. Ironically it was the hardest landing he had taken that night while the distance was by far the smallest. He tried to groan but couldn't get enough air to manage it.

He lay in the darkness, rubble cutting into his back, listening to the rain tapping on the stage above him. The mask stopped any tears that threatened to fall. The world flickered out of focus like a badly tuned set. Static danced around him. As his breath came back he realized that the thumping beat of the city only sounded so augmented because his heart was trying to go twice as fast as normal, and it was pounding in his ears. Robin tried to force control over his body, willing his heart to beat more evenly. He failed miserably but in the time it had taken to try, the edges of his vision became less fuzzy.

Sitting up slowly, Robin made sure everything still worked, both his tech and his limbs. The slowly blinking red light in his peripheral vision quickly distracted him from the task.

It was Terry.

Batman lay in a heap. Small sections of ruble from the ceiling had made it through the trap door, littered around the hero like fallen leaves. The suit had been damaged across the chest and arms. Pieces of red circuitry pulsed in a subtle illusion of arterial blood.

Robin forgot about his own pain and scrambled to his brother's side. Terry was unconscious but breathing. The suit had done its job, as far as Robin could tell, there were no broken bones or anything else major. Robin considered trying to wake him up, but if there were injuries he couldn't see, it could be bad. He gently lifted Terry's head trying to get him laid out flat. That was when he heard it: static from Batman's cowl.

That was it. All that time Robin had been thinking as if he was on his own, just him and Batman with a little help from the police, but there was someone else as well: Mr Wayne. He returned his earpiece to the bat frequency and immediately heard Wayne on the other end. Since he didn't have a mike Robin leaned over his brother and pitched his voice so the mikes in the Batsuit would pick up his voice.

"Cave, it's Robin, Batman's hurt. I don't know what to do."

Wayne cut him off before he could say anything else. "Calm down. What is your situation?"

Robin took a deep breath."Okay, okay, Batman and me are down under the stage. He's hurt, I don't know how bad it is, but I don't want to wake him up, just in case."

"What else Matt? Think, I need the full situation. Where's Shriek, who else is there? Details are important."

"I think, Shriek is still up on the stage. He brought the ceiling down on top of them, but I don't think he's dead. He looked unconscious, but I don't think he was hurt too bad. The cops are there now, I can hear them. It sounds like they're securing the area. I don't think they've noticed the trap door yet." There was a tremor in his voice towards the end.

"I understand. Now listen to me Matt, you're going to bring Terry back here. Until you are both safe back in the cave I want you to do exactly as I say. Do you understand?" Mr. Wayne's voice was rock solid. Robin sagged, not tired like before but relieved. He knew Wayne would take control of the situation, guiding him back to where things made sense.

"Right, what do I do?"

* * *

Gordon was there when Shriek regained consciousness. It wasn't pretty. They had already secured his hands,hands; otherwise the three officers attending him would've ended up in the hospital, if not the morgue. Barbara was more than a little tempted to give the order to knock him out again. They had disabled all of the enhancements in his suit, but even without the superstrength he was a formidable opponent.

With his arms encased to the elbow in high-tech restraints, and a discipline caller already fitted around his neck he was led outside by no less than eight handpicked officers. Barbara watched the proceedings from a shadowed corner. There was something about this whole situation. Desperation she could understand, and this was definitely desperate, but there was more to it. Something bigger was going on. That Robin character, and Batman whoever he was, were involved somehow, but again there was more to it than that.

She spent several minutes just watching the cleanup that was taking place around her. It took her a while to isolate what was wrong with the situation, because in truth the situation wasn't wrong, it was just unfinished. As things went, this had been easy. The power outage should have caused a lot more damage. They shouldn't have gotten away with so few casualties. In fact, the only people who would actually died had gone down in the first wave, when the street collapsed. In any other city luck would've been a good enough reason, but this was Gotham. Here, if something looks like luck it was someone pulling your strings.

Ian Hawk stumbled out of the theater after Shriek's precession. Somehow the rookie had managed to do all the wrong things tonight and still hadn't ended up dead. That kind of luck wasn't good for the health. Young men like that already thought they were immortal. Hawk had potential, but Gordon had seen a lot of cops with potential over the years. Hopefully her earlier words had made it clear to him that situations like these are nothing to be taken lightly.

Hawk slid into the last car in Shriek's convoy, she hoped that that meant he was going to clock out. She had more things to worry about than one rookie biting off more than he could chew.

Shriek allowed himself to be guided to his transport with only token resistance. He seemed distracted. His face was turned back towards the theater, though of course his eyes couldn't be seen behind that damn mask of his. Once they got back to the station it would give her no small amount of pleasure to strip it from him and lock it up in evidence for the next 50 years.

Barbara considered joining the convoy herself,herself; it was definitely a high priority. Unfortunately there was just so much cleanup that would have to be done here. The whole Plaza was already cordoned off and statements had to be taken from everyone who'd been present for anything.

That wasn't really why she was doing it though.

This whole situation had been triggered by something. Shriek may have been crazy but he wasn't an idiot. Even after they had traced the audio file back to this area there had still been a reasonable chance that he would've gotten away. Something had forced his hand. When he should've been hiding he blasted his way into the open, making an obvious target of himself. Then, Instead of running he had holed himself up when he knew that he would shortly be completely surrounded. None of it, the whole fragging mess, made no sense. Barbara had been a cop, and more, for long enough to know when she wasn't seeing the whole picture.

White noise built into crescendo at the back of her skull. She couldn't feel her legs as the world toppled, sliding out from under her at a strange angle. The ground and sky switched places. Her senses were flooded, overstimulated by imaginary sensations, a crackling static that somehow managed to overlay the sinister laughter, the gunshots.

Familiar white clad forms shimmered into existence at some point later, backlit by the red Gotham sky. Her officers, her people, doing familiar medical type things. It was the second time in as many days, only this time she wasn't sitting in the back of a med-van. Cold, wet, uneven stone pressed against her back, leaving the rain to pin her to the ground with each drop.

She couldn't move, couldn't even try to move. All of her thoughts were jumbled up together in a sludge that didn't make any sense. Then something cold and sharp pressed into the crook of her elbow and the world started to melt. A moment later the world had washed away, save for the fading sound of rain.

* * *

Ok people I have a good reason this is coming so late, no seriously, I got a job. As it stands now I will be working full time which will cut down on writing a bit. Chapters may not come as often. In addition i'm working on a few other stories in the background. Partners is still my priority but other things will pop up in between chapters.

On that note I've started my Definition series. It's a collection of short stories and one shots named after and inspired by the 8 words in the Barman Beyond opening. All of them are set in the same universe as Partners. The first one, Power, has already been posted. Apathy will be coming next as soon as I get it back from my beta.

Thank you to kitsune firefox, jimmy candlestick, lenorathetrekkie, irezel, Harm marie, V and lacewing for reviewing.


	27. Chapter 27

After fifteen minutes of trying to drag his still unconscious brother through the tunnels Matt decided that the only silver lining that could possibly be contrived from this was that he was still going downhill. Terry was draped over Matt's shoulders, legs dragging behind them as the young Robin attempted to get them to the rendezvous point. Wayne had managed to maneuver the Batmobile through the tunnels a good ways, but beyond a certain point it was simply too big.

Robin reached an intersection and let his feet wind down to a stop. The walls of the tunnel all the way up to the ceiling were covered with a green oily residue from the recent flooding. The smell and damp permeated the air until it was hardly breathable.

Robin turned on the receiver in his ear and pulled down the cloth covering his nose and mouth. With Terry draped over his shoulders close enough to have the ears of the bat suit occasionally try to poke out his eyes he had no doubt that Wayne would be able to hear him through Terry's mike.

"Okay, I'm at the intersection."

There was immediately a rumbling from the direction the murk was flowing from. The distant sound of metal locking into place preceded a drop in water level. Miles away from where Robin stood, in a different part of the catacombs beneath Gotham, Wayne had once more taken control of the sluice gates that controlled the city's water flow. There was simply too much water to let it all drain at once, not to mention that the continuing rain would've slowed the process down terribly. Instead Wayne had explained that he would guide Robin through the tunnels, redirecting the water at intervals.

For his part, Robin didn't really care what exactly the old man was doing. The physical exertion of the night had whittled down his brain functions to little more than person A to point B. It was probably a good thing. Any extra brainpower would've just been spent on worrying.

The water level reached its lowest point. "Okay, where do I go now?" Even Robin's voice was a monotone of exhaustion.

Mr. Wayne detailed the next leg of his trip. Robin boosted his brother a little higher on his back and pushed himself into moving forward.

Ian slouched, boneless in the back of the squad car. The windows of the vehicle were dirty and reinforced. The neon light of the city was fighting a losing battle trying to get into the car, and even the bit that managed to make it through the glass was discolored, casting strange patterns on the seat.

This model of squad car was equipped with aluminum reinforced plexiglass separating the officers in the front two seats from whatever dregs they were carrying. The wall had the added effect of blocking all sound from the front, leaving Ian alone in a silence that the hum of the engine and the background buzz of the city couldn't manage to fill.

They were the second car behind the prisoner transfer van in the procession that was heading back to the station. With all the trouble caused from the power outage they were actually moving reasonably slowly despite the urgency involved. In his exhausted state, the whole situation seemed rather dreamlike.

Ian leaned back, closing his eyes, and trying to block out the world around him. The car jerked to a stop and one of the officers in the front started speaking into the radio. He couldn't make out the words, only the tone of anger and frustration. They were all stressed after a long day like this. They were so close they could practically see the end of it, so of course a problem would crop up now.

The red flash practically burned through his eyelids, it was so bright. Ian looked up in time to see the car in front of them swerve wildly, almost colliding with oncoming traffic. Another vehicle turned into a skid that spun it nearly all the way around. Both the driver and passenger flung themselves out of the vehicle, frantically pulling weapons on some threat that he couldn't see. The car behind them stomped on the gas, jerking forward to rear end them. They were hit just as Ian's driver twisted the wheel to one side and swatted at the control for the weapons release. Other cars hadn't been so slow. From up the line came the distinctive yellow flash of search lights being turned on, and weapons being fired.

The sharp electric zap of laser fire managed to cut through the soundproof glass. Ian instinctively ducked, trying to make himself as small of a target as possible. He had no idea what they were shooting at, and he would be perfectly happy to never find out.

A ragged handful of seconds ticked past. With the combat a muffled, unintelligible background roar, Ian was able to gulp down several breaths.

In a major city like Gotham or Metropolis all cops were trained from the beginning to expect things to go wrong. Older cops were even known to complain, when things didn't go wrong. Ian hadn't been on the force long enough to have that attitude. What he did have were the months of training that had drilled into him how to react when faced with a sudden and unexpected firefight. Take stock of the situation. Determine where your efforts will have the greatest effect, and only then, act.

Ian had at some point lost his gun. He was exhausted, had no idea what they were fighting and had already escaped painful injury more then once. The other thing they taught you in training was to know when you were out gunned. Beat cops didn't have much chance against doomsday monsters. Ian decided to take the better part of Valor and did his best to climb under his seat.

The tin whistle screech that preempted the explosion struck a somehow harmonious, discord to the entire situation. The car rocked, tipping sideways and Ian fell head first into the vehicles side window. That was apparently the tipping point. Momentum carried the car onto it's side. Ian, in his half dazed state thought that would be the end of it, it wasn't. The weight of the lights and siren had the cruiser tipping the wrong way already, so when the shock wave hit there was no resistance.

The car toppled onto it's roof. The windows shattered. Ian landed flat on his back on what had been the ceiling. He really hoped that crunching sound wasn't his spine, or any other part of him. Without the clouded glass the lights seemed glaringly bright. Wasn't it supposed to be night? Where was all the orange coming from?

He twisted and groaned at the brilliant new pain that had been added to the earlier bruises. Maybe staying in the car hadn't been the best idea. He crawled forward, pulling himself arm over arm out of the death trap of a vehicle. The concrete was hard and sharp, or maybe that was the broken glass.

He finally made it far enough for the rain to start drumming into him. The water was very cold. It sent a much needed shock through his system, and he finally stated waking up enough to put one thought in front of another.

Blinking water out of his eyes he dragged himself another few feet. The fighting was still going on behind the car. Gunshots, battle cries and the whoop-whoop of sirens mixed into a river of sound to accompany the random bursts of color. Whoever they were fighting had to be some enemy. Whoever it was was being quiet, for the moment at least.

Had anyone called for backup? If this was some kind of prison break, it was a very quick one. A few hours ago they hadn't even known where Shriek was let alone had him in custody.

Ian pushed himself to his knees, he didn't feel steady enough for his feet yet. He had to figure out what was next, what action he should be taking. A shadow fell to his right, and he glanced in that direction.

Shriek stepped around the toppled car. He had apparently rid himself of the shackles by disengaging the arms of his suit. The bulky body and carapace of a helmet left his pale arms looking even smaller then normal. Turning his head he looked down at Ian. The villain tensed and for the first time Ian noticed the wand-like weapon in his hand. Two steps had Shriek looming over him.

"You."

Ian closed his eyes and tried to block out the dark joy that came through with the word. There was a whirring as the weapon drew in power. Fate, tempted one too many times.

* * *

Wayne had watched Matt's slow progress through the tunnels via the tracer on Terry's suit. Once the boys had finally reached the car he took the chance to get a better look at their condition. The number of censors the vehicle had at it's disposal was surprising even to him. A few of them, like the internal photon chronometer, had to had been added after some case had found the vehicle lacking.

Matt appeared to have only light injuries, the extent of which he would need to determine in person. There were however signs of fatigue and elevated stress levels. His pulse was too fast and scattered, plus he was shivering. It was hardly surprising but that didn't mean it wasn't worthy of concern.

Matt would survive, Terry's condition was a more urgent one. The fact that he had yet to regain consciousness was worrying. The injuries to his body were trying enough but the potential damage to the mind didn't have an end. If the damage was severe enough Terry would never wake up.

When the car entered the cave Bruce had the automated systems ready to receive them. Terry was carefully shifted onto one of the gurneys that were kept ready for such situations and rolled straight into the medical area. Matt was concerned enough to try to follow but Wayne pushed him down onto one of the cots that were lined up along one wall.

"Get some rest. I'll look after him."

Matt had half risen in protest but at the words he let himself slowly sink back down. He didn't even protest.

The medical room was everything Bruce could have asked for. The equipment was all state of the art, with a few personal modifications. It was all voice-automated and efficient. It wasn't hard to believe that he had built it, despite the fact that the memories still hadn't surfaced.

Bruce put Terry through a full spectrum of tests: two cracked ribs, heavy tissue damage to his back and right side, large overlapping bruises on his arms; only the head injury was potentially life threatening. The suit had mitigated most of the damage. There was still a chance of internal bleeding, but the results of those tests would be up soon enough. The last of the tests was a brain scan. It was in fact, the same scan that Terry had requested earlier. When the system was ready he set it running, even with modern science it would take close to a quarter hour for a full scan, during that time Bruce could look in on his other patient.

Matt had fallen asleep. This was turning into a pattern. He was curled up on his side, his hands tucked up under his chin. The boy hadn't even taken the time to crawl under the sheets. Bruce reached out to roll him onto his back. Matt blinked awake at the touch, looking around with sleep filled eyes.

"'s Terry?"

"Still testing. I want to look you over. Then you can go back to sleep."

"Wasn't sleeping." Matt tried to protest, at least he managed to sit up mostly on his own.

"Take off your jacket."

He rolled his shoulders until the coat slid down his arms. Matt was mostly unresponsive during the tests. He would follow direction and mumble responses when asked any questions, but otherwise didn't seem to notice his surroundings. Bruce found himself quietly enjoying the momentary peace.

As he had thought Matt's injuries were mostly superficial. His arms were covered in bruises and there were dozens of small cuts on his hands. His shoulders showed signs of being strained. Beyond that was the fatigue and stress.

Bruce coated the boy's hands in a disinfectant spray that would also speed up the healing process, and gave him a pair of pills to counter anything he might have picked up in the tunnels. He was about to order the boy back to sleep when the computer beeped.

The old man turned to where Terry was passed out under the scanner. By Bruce's estimate the process wouldn't be finished for another four minutes. Sure enough the machine was still whirring away.

Addressing the nearest monitor, he spoke. "Computer, alert onscreen." an image of the boys mother, Mary, beside a vid-phone icon. Ahh yes, the oblivious self-proclaimed real world, this should be interesting.

"Answer, Audio only." he paused for a moment. When he next spoke his voice was slightly higher, smoother, and had the cultured overtones that others expected. "Wayne Manner..."

"Mr. Wayne, I'm sorry to call at this hour, but I need to speak to Terry. Is he there?" Her voice was strained even as she tried to keep her tone level.

Bruce glanced at where Terry was still being scanned. "Oh, he's around here somewhere. I'm sure he'll be back in a moment. But since you called, I was thinking on having the boys stay here at the manner tonight. It's already so late, and what with the power outage downtown. I'm not sure how safe it would be, even for someone like Terry."

"Yes I can see your point..." she was distracted, her voice catching on every third word or so. "Mr. Wayne, I'm not sure if I heard you correctly. A moment ago did you say the boys, plural?"

Well, he had never thought she was slow on the up take. "I did."

"Then, is Matt there with you as well?"

"He is, were you unaware of our plans for today?" Bruce added a touch of confusion to his voice. "Terry didn't tell you?"

"Tell me?" her words were full of breath as if she had tried to speak and gasp at the same time.

"I apologize, I was under the impression that you knew what our plans were. Wayne-Powers has several products in production at the moment that are centered around the 8-12 and 10-15 age brackets. I had asked Terry if Matt would like to help with some testing and product development after he got off school. I will admit it took a bit longer then I anticipated. I would have called you earlier, had I known." He paused, ostensibly to work through these facts but in reality more because he needed to take a breath. "Is that why you called, because you were looking for him?"

"It was, actually. I thought Terry might know something, and apparently I was right." her voice was still strained even as she tried to force a bit of amusement into it.

"Yes well, I can assure you, I'll do my best to make sure this doesn't happen again. In the mean time, I'll look after him, both of them, so there's no need to worry."

He hoped he wasn't lying to her. It wasn't that he wouldn't look after them, that much was completely true, but Terry was by no means out of the woods.

"Of course, thank you. And you're right. They should just stay with you tonight. It is Friday and it's not like Terry doesn't stay there half the time as it is. Good night, and thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." he muttered as the connection ended. After all there was still so much to do. He pushed himself to his feet, his cane supporting more if his weight then it should have. A million little aches reminded him that he wasn't a young man anymore, and that it had been a long time since he could push off sleep without consequences. The scanner signaled that it was finished. Bruce pushed the pain into the background where it belonged and got to work.

Terry had plenty of brain scans on file in addition to this one and the one from earlier. Bruce made sure they transferred properly to the main computer before returning to his charges. He made sure Matt was covered up and tried to make Terry as comfortable as possible. His vitals were being monitored, apart from that there really wasn't much to be done. The next forty eight hours would be the decider. He turned down the lights and let them sleep.

By the time that was done the early hours of the morning were creeping up on him. Most of the sane world would be asleep at this hour, but then when had anything in Gotham been considered sane?


	28. Chapter 28

Bruce collected the evidence and laid it out. He was faced with three problems, and he was beginning to suspect that they were not unconnected. The first problem was the overarching issue of memory loss, but although important, it was not the most pressing. The second problem was Terry and the medical issues he could be facing. While those issues were immediate. There was in truth, little he could do for Terry. The best thing for him was already being done. Bruce would take another measure of the situation after the boy had slept it off. The third issue, and most immediate, was Shriek.

The dead hours of the night had settled into place. Normal people preferred to be asleep at four in the morning. Maybe he had grown soft. Old aches were calling him to his bead. He couldn't feel a section of left leg. His eyes were having trouble focusing. A reasonable person, perhaps a sensible person, would have taken a hot shower to work the kink out of his back then followed the boys example. Bruce had work to do.

Almost as soon as he sat down, the alert began echoing the contradictory messages from the police band. Bruce directed the brain scans onto one of the secondary screens, and brought up the radio feeds. The voices overlapped one another, panicked and tense.

"Damn it, what are those things?"

"Backup, we need backup! Now we're -"

"There are too many, we're being overwhelmed -"

"10th and Stanton, officers under fire, repeat officer's under – "

"Prisoner transport down. Something's -"

It was hard to be sure but it sounded like the prisoner escort was under attack.

Bruce flew through the commands that would bring up any video for the area. He had been caught unprepared too many times recently. The gaps in his knowledge were costing lives. He was getting sloppy. It wasn't just the memories from before either, Terry was hurt now because Bruce hadn't been prepared for the right situations. He needed to remedy that, and knowledge was the key.

The Batcave mainframe reached out, hacking into security feeds, traffic cameras and the police band itself. Live video feeds from over fifty different angles were copied and rerouted back to the cave.

Static.

Every feed, every camera, every angle. The interference covered everything, blanketing the whole area in white noise. His knuckles turned white on the handle of his cane. His heart pounded in frustration and cold rage. Needles slipped into his brain, threatening to start another migraine. They had been becoming more frequent. He took a breath. Slipping on his control like an old coat, he spoke.

"Computer, analyze video. Repair and enhance."

Even with his mainframe it would take time. Unfortunately, the police band was no help. There was simply no logical sequence to follow. There was no organization, no chain of command. As more officers shouted into their radios for help it became more and more apparent that confusion was the only major theme. The number of attackers, and who exactly was attacking shifted with each new report.

Clearly the chain of command had broken down. Following that train of logic Bruce spread his net a little wider. Where was Barbara? Who was her second for this situation, and where were they? He started where she had last been seen, near the theater. The cameras there weren't affected by the interference. Playing back the last few minutes he watched her go down.

She had been standing off to one side rather than in the center of things. That was like her somehow. Her body language had been tense. She was stressed, worried about something. Shriek's convoy pulled away. Barbara watched it go, occasionally giving orders when needed.

Then, suddenly she collapsed. Her legs went out from under her and she started shaking, clutching at the back of her head. Her people reacted well. A medic was there in moments. She was given something to stop the convulsions. Bruce watched in rigid tension, relaxing only when the medic gave the all clear. Things calmed down a notch when she relaxed into a normal level of unconsciousness.

Bruce fast forwarded through her ambulance trip. Getting into the hospital computer system was child's play. She appeared to be stable but the battery of tests they ran came back with conflicting results.

Of course, the doctors didn't know what he knew. She was at risk in more ways than they understood. He considered for a bit, then made a call. That done, he considered his next move.

Things seemed to have finally settled down, giving him a chance to sort everything out. By that point pre-dawn was probably creeping over the land. The bats had started returning to the cave. Between the sound of their wings and the softly dripping water Wayne heard the sound of footsteps.

* * *

Matt woke to the rustling of wings and the squeaking of bats. He couldn't see them in the low light but there had to be hundreds of them. The sounds they made echoed off the stone, modulating the sounds into endless loops. It wasn't something he had ever heard before, even the other times he had been in the cave. Laying there in the medical room's extra cot he realized that it must be around dawn, otherwise they wouldn't be so active. He had passed out for hours.

What had he missed? Had Terry woken up? This wasn't like him at all. Terry was the one who fell asleep in class after being up, not him.

Matt pushed himself up, and winced. There were about seventeen million different places that hurt. Looking down at his hands and chest he found bandages that he didn't remember having been applied.

Easing himself off the bed he crossed to the main cave. Ace looked up from where he lay beside Wayne. The old man was at his computer, engrossed in whatever he was working on. Matt rubbed the sleep from his eyes and spoke.

"What's happening?"

"Everything."

Matt blinked, he wasn't sure that he had heard correctly. "All at once?"

Bruce glanced over one shoulder and surveyed the boy's appearance. He still wore the clothes from the night before, now wrinkled by sleep. None of the bandages needed to be changed yet.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after a pause.

Robin looked down at his hands. "I'm fine."

Bruce decided to let the comment pass. "You should go back to bed. Sleep while you can."

"You're not."

"I have work to do."

"What kind of work? Have you figured out who took your memories yet?"

Bruce looked up towards the unseen ceiling. So much for the quiet. "It's not quite that simple."

Robin found himself looking down at his feet. In the past, when he had secretly listened to Batman's adventures it had all seemed so inevitable. The bad guys tried something, Wayne figured it out, Terry took them down, one, two, three. Now it wasn't that simple. A link in the chain was missing. Everything was happening so fast, Robin hadn't really had any time to process anything. Forty Eight hours ago he had barely suspected something was wrong. His suspicions had been based on nothing other than that Terry had been acting strange. Now he was so deep into this other world that he was thinking of himself as another person.

"What do we do now?"

The question was asked with such open ended trust that Bruce couldn't help but stare. It took him a good two minutes before he was able to answer. "Well, what do you know about the process of deductive reasoning?"

Robin was reasonably sure he had heard those words before. "Ummm."

Bruce took a slow breath, letting it out as he silently reminded himself that the boy was just trying to help. "Deductive reasoning is an act that uses logic to connect facts and infer solutions to hypothesis."

Robin's expression remained optimistically blank.

"I'm trying to get a better picture of the situation by looking at what happened last night."

"But we know what happened last night. It was Shriek. No big mystery there."

Bruce nodded, returning to his screen. "True, but why act now? What triggered this action?"

Robin pulled up one of the other chairs. "You think it has something to do with everything else that's happening?"

"I think it would be quite a coincidence for all of this to happen now, and not be connected."

"Right, what can I do to help?"

Bruce's first instinct was to tell the boy to leave him be. He hesitated, though, looking at the earnest child. If Matt hadn't stumbled into all this Bruce might not have even realized what the true problem was. Fine, he would give the boy a chance.

Bruce transferred several files onto a datapad, and handed it to the boy. "That footage needs to be analyzed. Make a list of everything that happens and the timestamp. Details are important."

Bruce was betting that the kid would get bored inside of twenty minutes. Still, he had to admit, it was nice to have the boy there.

* * *

Barbara woke up groggy. She considered for a bit and decided it was the medication. She didn't remember taking anything but this had the feel of something slow and constant. Naturally occurring grogginess tended to be a bit more quavering; it faded in and out like a badly tuned radio. Not that anyone used radios anymore, tuned or otherwise.

She tried to sit up, take in her surroundings. Observe and act, as she'd been trained. No wait, when had she been...? Her pulse tried to speed up despite whatever was being fed into her veins through the IV in her arm. Her surroundings were unfamiliar which didn't help.

The room was painted in an off-white that was taking on a yellowish tint from the morning light coming in through the window. The curtains were made of thin unremarkable fabric. There were two mismatched chairs, a small side table and a set of softly beeping machines serving as sparse furniture. The bedspread was a faint cornflower blue.

Barbara leaned back relaxing as she recognized one of the nicer rooms at Gotham General Hospital. She couldn't remember how or why she was there, but she had been through the routine enough times to know jumping out of bed wouldn't help. Instead she looked around until she found the button that would call the nurse. She didn't have to wait long.

The nurse who arrived was a woman who was past her prime but not yet into old age. She had a comfortable amount of weight on her and her hair was going grey early. Her hospital uniform was careworn but well kept. She moved with a steady deliberation that would not be rushed. As she came closer Barbara was able to read the name tag pinned to her collar: Debora Fields.

The officer accompanying Debora was almost her complete opposite. He was fairly young with a burst of red hair and a smattering of freckles. He walked with a constant energy that showed in every movement. He wore his uniform with a casual disregard for any authority it gave him. Gordon didn't know him by sight, but the number on his uniform marked him as belonging to the east side precinct.

"Fill me in." Barbara directed the statement at both of them fully expecting the young officer to jump in first. To her surprise he hesitated, waiting for the nurse to pick up the clipboard with Barbara's information. The woman flipped through the pages until she was satisfied, before speaking.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Tell me what happened."

"Do you have any residual aches, numbness, dizziness, lightheadedness?"

Barbara fixed the woman with her best 'don't push me' stare and spoke. "No."

The woman made a note on the clipboard. "Have you had any contact with any strange substances? Anything that might be toxic?"

Barbara turned to the officer. If the nurse wouldn't give her any information there was no point in acknowledging her. "Officer, what's the situation."

The young man hooked his hands into his pockets. His posture was relaxed, even casual, but his expression was direct. It was clear he wasn't taking the situation lightly.

"Not all of this is first hand, but you were brought here last night after some kind of seizure. Medics treated you on site of course, but when you didn't regain consciousness, you were admitted. The doctors have done a bunch of tests, but none of them seem to know what's wrong. I think the current theory is brain damage caused by the recent trauma. Sergeant Weaver told them about how Mad Stan's explosion hit you. He's downstairs now. There are five of us here in the hospital, six including yourself. Weaver's acting commander here, though from what I've heard Thompson has taken point back at HQ."

"And you are?"

"Officer West."

West, that was familiar, but she couldn't place him. It was happening again, gaps popping up in her memory. There was something else as well, something that her instincts were stuck on, something about the room.

"Why aren't I in a regular room?" She wasn't panicking but there was a tension rising slowly up her spine.

West faltered, then looked at the nurse. Debora was lightly tapping a pen against the clip board, apparently still determined to wait for Barbara to answer her questions. Barbara looked between the two, then spoke at the woman.

"Go get a real doctor." The two of them had a brief staring match, which Barbara won. The nurse set down the clipboard rather forcefully and bustled herself out of the room. Barbara then turned the full force of her stare on Officer West.

"Well, Ummm," he paused, took a breath, and planted his feet. "There are really two reasons you're here. The cover is that your old friend Bruce Wayne heard you were brought in and since he owns the hospital he had you moved into a better room. It's actually the truth; he called about an hour after you were admitted. The real reason we wanted you in your own room was because of the attack." he held up a hand as she tensed. "It wasn't an attack on you. I know you'll want all the details, but I don't have a lot of the info..."

Barbara leaned back crossing her arms. She had let herself relax a bit but was still quietly tense. How on Earth had Bruce known? Why even pay attention to such a thing? It wasn't like she was a stranger to hospitals. Between her job, and growing older she had visits every second or third month. Why help now? Unless he was worried about her. No one was supposed to know about this new attack, that much was clear; but that man had always had ways of knowing more than anyone else.

Pain shot through her head making her eyes slide out of focus. She gritted her teeth, squinting her eyes against the suddenly blinding lights. The pain lasted long enough to feel like forever, though it couldn't have been more than thirty seconds judging by how Officer West was reacting.

"Commissioner! Are you alright? Ok, stupid question. Can you hear me? Should I call the doctor?"

Barbara shook her head, slowly letting out a breath and gathering her control. "No, I'm alright. Momentary pain, gone now. Tell me about the attack."

He hesitated, clearly still worried. He defaulted to cop protocol though, so he once again took a breath to speak.

"It happened last night. I was one of the officers on scene when Shriek was apprehended. They took him away, and everything looked like it was going fine. Then you collapsed. I saw you start shaking, shivering, I don't know. The medics got you stabilized but they didn't want to wake you up. By the time we got you into one of the ambulances the prisoner convoy had been attacked. Everything happened at once, and you were down so..." He was gesturing with his hands, not quite pulling off the calm exterior he was trying for.

"There was no one in command." She prompted him to continue, keeping her own voice level to hide the still receding pain.

He nodded. "Weaver was on site, with you, but he didn't know what was going on. Thompson tried to coordinate things from his end but he doesn't really have the rank to take command in a situation like that."

Barbara held up a hand to stop him before he got to far into the tangent. "Tell me about the attack."

"The reports are mixed. It started with some kind of explosion. There was a lot of confusion in the streets. From what I've overheard, the procession had stopped for some reason. Then there was a flash of some kind, I'm thinking it was some kind of stun grenade. After that, they were attacked. The weird thing is that, the reports of who attacked them don't match up." He paused, one hand twisting the other as he thought.

"Ok, the truth is I overheard Weaver on the phone, so all of this could be completely wrong. It sounded like some people thought they were fighting demons, and other people thought they were fighting aliens. There was also something about a shadow monster." he looked up to meet her eyes and his expression went from hesitant and confused to determined. "I'm probably just confusing the issue. Let me go get Weaver. He'll be able to tell you what's really happening."

"I think not." The man who entered the room was white, mid-forties, and balding. The white doctor's coat hung on a slightly overweight frame. His expression was a permanent disinterested scowl. She could tell immediately that he was the type of man who was accustomed to being obeyed. The nurse from before hovered behind him in the doorway.

"My patient" he continued, "has just woken up after a traumatic experience the extent of which has not yet been determined. You will all just have to survive without her until we are satisfied that she has been released." He turned to Barbara. "And as for you; head injuries are nothing to be taken lightly. You are to remain under observation until we can be sure there will not be a second such incident. I will make this clear right now. Until you are given a clean bill of health you will not be allowed to return to work, so you might as well cooperate."

He waited for her to respond but she didn't bother trying to retaliate. Instead she turned to Officer West. "Tell Weaver to keep it out of the press."

West nodded, then jumped for the door when she motioned for him to shoo. Barbara knew she was being hedged into a bureaucratic maze. Luckily she knew a few ways to climb over walls.

* * *

When Terry woke it was with a sense of deja-vu. He was in a bed that wasn't his own, but still felt familiar. He couldn't see in the dim light but the sense of the space around him summoned a sense of normalcy. The air was cool and slightly humid. The sounds; it was strange. They weren't the sounds of the city, it was quieter than that. Nevertheless, the sounds he could hear didn't alarm him.

His brain slowly surfaced bringing with it a bit more rational thought. He was in a cave, probably the same one with all that superhero junk. He couldn't remember how he had gotten back there, probably because of the splitting pain from the back of his skull. The last thing he could remember was... Shriek, and maybe something about a theater, an audience, people.

He started to sit up before he had fully realized his condition. Lightning pain, not only burning through his brain, but a good portion of the rest of him as well. He let his head hang from his shoulders as he sat on the edge of the bed. The pain had blocked off his thoughts giving his emotions free reign. Stubborn rage was at the forefront with fear and the desperate need to do something hovering at his shoulders.

It took several minutes of slow breathing before he could pull himself together enough to stand up. The room tried to spin him off his feet but he forced it back to it's place. When he was sure he wouldn't fall over he took a few steps toward the main section of the cave. The going was slow, but it became easier as he went. He was walking almost normally by the time he got there.

The old man noticed him first, studying him with that slow constant gaze. Matt stood opposite the holo-table from Bruce. It took the kid a minute longer to notice the redirection of Wayne's attention. Spinning around, Matt's face lit up.

"Terry, you're up! You're ok!" Matt ran over and attached himself to Terry's legs in a hug. The sudden jolt made Terry sway on his feet before he was able to regain his balance.

"Ease up twip, I'm ok but I still hurt." he ruffled his little brother's hair.

Matt released him but caught hold of his hand, pulling him over to where Wayne waited by the table. Wayne studied him, carefully noting the slight limp, the visible bruising and the way he was squinting even in the dim light. Waving a hand at one of the chairs he motioned for Terry to sit. He made no rush of coming around the table. The deliberation was calming in its steady predictability. The old man checked his pulse and looked into his eyes before asking the obvious question.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

Bruce waited. Fine was not a word that could ever describe someone who had been through something like that.

"I will be fine." Terry carefully stressed each word. "Now tell me what you're working on."

"We found your brain!" Matt was ecstatic, it was like he had been bursting to say just that since Terry had first entered.

"What?"

"We found your brain. It actually exists!"

Terry was suddenly reminded why he had chosen to live with his dad when his parents split up. He gave his brother the driest look he could manage before turning away and ignoring his existence. He spoke to Wayne.

"So, what have we got?"

Bruce lifted one eyebrow and let the left corner of his mouth quirk up in what a generous person might have considered the beginnings of a smile. "Your brain."

Terry's eyes rolled and he let his shoulders sag for a minute before he brought himself back to give Wayne a 'no, really' look.

Bruce ran his hands over the controls of the holo-table. One after another he brought up four images to hover over the table's surface in lines of transparent light. Brains: the skulls and features only hinted at, lined up in color coded, chronological order. Terry looked down the line. He could see differences, but couldn't make heads or tails of what they might mean.

Wayne wasn't finished though. The first four images were joined by three more, a set of two and one off to the side. Where the first line had been Terry's scans, judging by the suggested features, the others belonged someone else.

Matt sidled over and plopped his elbows down on the edge of the table. "I'm the one who found it." he said half conspiringly and half boasting.

Terry continued to ignore his brother. He was pretty good at it by that point, after all, he had had years of practice. Matt countered by disregarding the fact that Terry was ignoring him, and plowing forward even without a response from the other party.

"Well, I didn't really know what it meant at first but I'm the one who saw it."

Terry looked at Wayne for the explanation he knew was coming. Wayne however seemed to be taking his time. He grouped to holos and marked out several features with highlights before he prepared to speak.

"These four are scans of you. These two were pulled from archives; this one is from about six months ago while this one is from two months ago. This one is from yesterday, and the last was taken while you were out last night." Terry crossed his arms but Bruce just moved on to the other scans. "These two are from myself. This one was in the medical files we acquired. This is one I took this mourning." He indicated the last brain floating solitarily at the end of the table. "That is a scan that was taken of Barbara early this morning."

"Enough old man, just tell me what I'm supposed to be looking at."

Wayne looked at him. The hand on his cane flexed. Terry knew him well enough to see that he wasn't happy about this. Whatever it was, Wayne thought it could become a problem.

Matt apparently didn't notice Wayne's inner debate. "Show him the spots!"

Bruce didn't glare at him but it was a close thing. Wayne resigned himself, took his seat, and took a breath.

"Here, the temporal lobes, evidence of recent scarring can be seen. That's not just inactivity, those are dead cells. They're in evidence here and here on your more recent scans but are absent on the scans from before. At first I thought it might have been from the hit you took last night. Unfortunately they are in evidence on the scan from before then as well. Similar evidence can be found on my own scans. The damage seems to coincide with when our memories were effected. I believe they are cause and effect. It's still theory, but it has the support of the facts." Wayne switched to the technical aspect then; talking about how the myelin in the amygdala did such and such. The serotonin, something about synapses. Activity patterns showing the spread of some word Terry didn't know. How the adaptation could theoretically lead to radical changes. Case studies had shown that yada yada yada.

Terry only understood half of it at most, fighting through the haze of the rest in the same way he got through half of his classes. It was frustrating. The one time Wayne wasn't stone silent he was spouting enough techno-babel to be incomprehensible. Couldn't he bottom line it, this once? Pressure built, throbbing behind Terry's eyes. Despite his assurances to the others, he was nowhere close to fine.

He wanted to crawl away into a corner and lick his wounds. He wanted to turn his back on this cave and go back to his life. Go back to being an average student and a pain to his mom. He wasn't some dark superhero; he was a flake of a boyfriend and a part time punk. The dark part of him didn't try to remind him how good it felt, or that it was only a matter of time before he got himself neck deep in trouble like he had so many times before; it just got angry. The heat simmered in his gut slowly climbing up the back of his spine.

Eventually Wayne paused, letting what he had said sink in before manipulating the holo-table. The brains changed from an even blue to a spectrum of reds and yellows. "This shows activity. Yellow is active, red inactive."

Bruce fell silent. This time the changes spoke for themselves.

Around the damaged areas the activity faded darkening towards red. It was like one of those weather maps showing temperature. Yellow fading into orange in such a way that the reality was lost except at the extremes. A wave of dizziness swept over Terry making the whole situation seem less real. The red in the holo seemed to pulse as if it was growing like some malignant tumor. Looking at it like that turned things around.

The damage had created a stronghold deep under his left temple. His body was trying to fight it off but the shadows were gaining ground. It was a battlefield, one where every step made him less himself; and there was nothing he could do about it. Panic sparked like dust mote fireworks, collecting in his throat, knees and making his fingers twitch. He hated it, hated being afraid. He reached for his old ally against the fear: anger.

"You're wrong. I don't care what psychobabble you pull out of your ass. Your machines are wrong. Oh and if you're trying to say I'm going crazy, have the decency to say it to my face!"

"Terry calm down and think for a moment. The areas of your brain that are the most damaged are the areas that control reasoning and logic as well as memory. Don't let your emotions take over."

"Bullshit!" Terry slammed one hand down on the table making the images flicker in and out of existence. "You know what? I'm done. I've had enough of this slag. Yeah, I thought there was some strange stuff going on. What the hell, cool toys and all that, but I finally realized what the weird part was. This, all of this and you going on about lost memories and superheroes. I can't believe I didn't see it from the beginning. Powers was right, you are out of your gourd, bring on the men in white coats level insane. You've been stuck here in this house long enough to go bonkers and you're trying to drag me down with you. Well I'm done with it. You want to call me insane? Take a good look at your own head first, and while you're at it take a good long look at reality." Terry turned, grabbing his bag off a side table. He shot one last barb over his shoulder as he headed for the stairs.

"I quit."

* * *

ok hello all.

Fist sorry about no author's comment last chapter. I was kind of out of it that day, so to all of you who reviewed that chapter; thank you. Also sorry that this chapter took so long, but at least it's a long one right?

We are nearing the end. You heard me right big reveals and final battles on the way. At this point I have the rest of this story completely planed out.

So... who do you think did it? I would love to hear some of your guesses. I've dropped a lot of hints in the last few chapters, think you've been catching them?

Also I would like to apologize if I got any of the science wrong. It's been a long time since my psychology class.

Thank you to PolyPtera, Jimmy Candlestick, CrimsonEnigma, Harm Marie, and Lenorathetrekkie for reviewing chapter 27.


	29. Chapter 29

Robin watched his brother tear out of the cave like an angry dragon. Both Terry and Bruce had seemed to ignore him there at the end. Bruce still hadn't acknowledged him. The old man was sitting slumped in his chair, one hand rubbing circles into his eyes. For the moment at least, Robin was invisible. He could go after Terry. If he went now he could catch up with him. Maybe he could even convince Terry to stay if he was fast enough or clever enough. Even as he thought it, his heart sank. He would never be fast or clever enough for that.

Turning away from the stairs his eyes once more caught the flickering holo-table. The seven brains were still lit up in shades of red and yellow. If nothing else Terry was right about one thing. It was hard to believe. The menacing reality of what those colors meant was too abstract, too easy to laugh off. If he could let himself fully comprehend, it would be one of the most terrifying things he had ever faced, and he wasn't even the one whose head was being examined.

Robin looked over the holos again and realized the other implication of the images there. "He's not the only one, is he?" Matt's voice was quiet but clear, the question asked hesitantly.

Wayne's head came up sharply to capture the boy where he stood. His tense gaze took several minutes to soften. Robin found himself letting out a slow inaudible breath as Wayne turned to look at the holos.

"No, he isn't the only one." Bruce waved away Terry's scans bringing his own and Barbara's into center focus. They weren't dark in the same areas Terry's had been. Where Terry's brain had been damaged mostly on the left side, spreading forward, Barbara's scans showed damage deep in the center of her mind. Bruce's was again different, appearing as almost a stripe from left to right across his brain. Robin didn't know enough about psychology to know which areas those were, but he did know any damage could have disastrous results.

Wayne seemed to read his mind, reaching forward to let his fingers skim over the images of his brain. "The parietal lobe controls touch, pain, and the ability to detect heat."

Robin took in the information, almost automatically running through the scenario. He winced. Phantom sensations would be the least of Wayne's problems if the damage escalated. He wouldn't be able to tell if whet he felt was real or an illusion his mind created. The smallest injury could end up fatal because his pain sensors never picked up on it. He could be wracked with pain that had no source except his own head.

Wayne brought up his hand to the last holo: Barbara's. His gesture was so gentle, as if he thought he could hurt her through the image. His words were quiet and drifting. It was hard to tell if he was even aware he was still speaking.

"The brain stem, controlling heartbeat, breathing. Oh Barbara."

There was nothing Robin could truly say to that.

* * *

It should have been midnight, the sky clouded over and raining hard. Instead Terry found himself walking the city streets of a reasonably warm, partly cloudy day, on the university side of town. Plenty of people were out taking advantage of the start of the three day weekend. Restaurants brushed off outdoor tables that hadn't been used in a season while street vendors made a killing on hotdogs and burritos. Girls were already pulling out the shorts and mini-shirts. The whole world seemed ready to embrace summer, and Terry wanted none of it.

He had been walking around the city for almost an hour and still hadn't cooled down after his outburst with Wayne. Riding his cycle hadn't helped, being in the empty house hadn't helped, and now this jaunt had turned out useless. Fear tried to catch him again, and he struggled to push it back. Maybe it was just because he was aware of it now, but it seemed like his emotions seemed ready to jump him at any moment. It didn't help that there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

He had never realized how much he relied on cold practicality. Silently adding up the odds while drinking in the thrill of a fight, or calculating someone's next move even as he was shooting off his mouth. Normally he could ride his emotions with logic as an anchor. Now he had been tossed into a maelstrom and was quickly losing himself.

"Terry, hello, Earth to Terry."

Terry had to check himself from grabbing the hand that was suddenly waving in front of his eyes. It would have been too easy to snap the wrist out of pure reflex. Then Max was suddenly up in his face and kicked all thoughts out of his head.

"Max,"

"You back planet-side then, or do I need to send you bus fare to get back from dreamland?" Max had one hand on her hip and was giving him a classic Max look: part mocking, part daring with a coating of amusement. Normally Terry could meet her gaze. It was part of the reason they were such good friends. Neither of them let the other get away with anything. Terry looked away.

Max noticed. "You OK Ter?"

"Fine. Anyway, who exactly is it that's always asking me for creds? If you want to start joking like that you better start paying me back." His smile would have fooled almost anyone but it didn't fool her.

"Don't try to change the subject on me."

"Who's changing the subject? You're the one who mentioned bus fare."

She snorted. Max was the only girl he knew who could actually pull off snorting and make it look feminine. "Spill, what's up."

"Nothing Max, drop it."

This was going too far. He didn't need her to get mixed up in all this slag. He was having a hard enough time dealing with it when it was only him... and Matt. Frag, he had forgotten about Matt. Where had she come from anyway? Max had popped up without him even realizing she was close. That wasn't like him. Street punk or Batman, he had always been able to tell when people were close - closing in on him. If that was gone as well as everything else... He didn't like where this was going. Maybe he had just been that distracted.

Max casually hooked her arm through his and started guiding him down the street. Terry pulled himself out of the internal debate to glare at her.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting a smoothie." Her response was the definition of casual.

"With my arm?"

"Oh no. Your arm is getting its own smoothie."

He tried to calculate the best way out of this particular trap, but got distracted when he realized where they were, and where they were going.

Mike's was a local secret. The cafe was tucked away behind a back street off university square. The original Mike had been one of the Blackhawks. He had lost a leg in combat and retired early, spending the rest of his life feeding and patching up any of his old friends who managed to make it through his door. Apparently it had happened a lot. It hadn't hurt that he had been more than a decent cook and had picked up recipes from everywhere he had traveled. The diner that had eventually emerged didn't look or feel like a diner. You had to eat wherever you could find a seat among the picnic tables and lawn furniture while food was served on cheep plastic plates out of the open kitchen door. You could by god write down your own order and if you didn't know the menu, too bad. The current Mike, grandson of the original, was just as good a cook and made smoothies you could eat with a spoon.

Due to the nature of the setting, Mike's had limited hours during the colder months. Terry had been busy enough that he hadn't been able to make it down there since last fall. He decided not to protest as Max grabbed a pair of order slips and started scribbling.

When the two of them were seated in a pair of wicker chairs in the shade of the building, Max turned to him and asked her question for a second time. "You ok Ter?"

She timed it for when he had just taken a bite. The hamburger that he had ordered was, in his opinion, a thing of beauty the likes of which were rarely found outside of Texas and therefore deserved his full attention. No snappy retort this time. The fact that he couldn't remember eating in the last 24 hours might have been a contributing factor. By the time he finished his bite he had actually started thinking about the question.

"No." He quickly took another bite to avoid the inevitable prodding from his female company.

"What's wrong?"

He glared, which she took as a signal to continue.

"You nearly grabbed me when all I did was say hello. You've been squinting at everything and rubbing the back of your neck. You've got that grumpy mad-at-the-world thing going, and the last time I saw that, you picked a fight with six Jokerz. There are bruises visible on half the skin you have showing. I can keep going, you know."

Well at least she didn't seem to expect him to talk about his feelings, just why he looked like a wreck. That might have just been a ruse though. Max could be tricky like that. He couldn't tell her anything anyway. Not without giving it all away. Could he? He did seem to remember something about Max knowing. Some comment from Matt maybe? It didn't matter. He had quit. He wasn't going back. He was done with it so there wasn't any point in talking about it.

"You know, you really suck at conversation, McGinnis."

"Maybe you just suck at starting conversations."

"Fine. You start." Max nibbled on her french fries as she waited for him to admit defeat.

Terry picked through his brain for a topic of conversation other than the one he was avoiding. There weren't that many to choose from.

"Is Dana still angry?"

"Depends, how much groveling have you done?"

Terry leaned back and rubbed at the back of his neck. He couldn't clearly remember the fight from the night before but he must have been injured at some point. The ache was distracting. "Not much. Haven't really had the time to talk."

"You never have the time to talk. I'm surprised she hasn't given up on you." Max took the lid off her cup so she could get at the last of her smoothie.

"I'm not that bad, and besides it wasn't my fault." Terry fiddled with the last of his fries.

Max rolled her eyes. "It was, and you are. What dragged you away this time anyway?"

"Jailbreak."

Terry looked up when Max didn't say anything. She genuinely looked surprised and more than a little incredulous. He blinked. "What? What did I say?" Her next look was of skepticism and surprise. She quickly covered her emotions.

"You just said that it was the jailbreak that tore you away from your last date with Dana."

"I did?" Thinking back, he could remember the first half of the date. He could remember getting the call that pulled him away. He could remember trying to explain and failing like so many times before. Then nothing. After that, the next thing he could remember was falling into bed and wondering if it was too late to call her and apologize. There was a big empty space in the middle. He had no memories of being anywhere near the jailbreak last week. Why had he said that? It sounded right, and considering what his job really was - had been - it made sense. Why say it out of the blue like that though? Had it been some kind of latent memory surfacing in an unguarded moment, or intuition stepping up where logic failed?

More importantly, there was the hard proof that he had been trying to ignore. Like it or not, someone had messed with his head. Terry sank a few inches lower in his seat.

"I've been listening to Dana complain about you ditching her for days now. You were on the opposite side of town when the jailbreak happened. I know you don't want to tell me what's going on," Max paused, giving him a look that clearly told him what she thought of that decision. "But you should seriously just tell me what's going on."

He couldn't meet her gaze.

"Terry, you can trust me. Whatever it is. You know I can keep a secret."

He did. He didn't know how he knew, intuition or repressed memory or what, but it was true. Maybe it would be better just to get it off his chest. It would give him a chance to complain about how crazy Wayne was if nothing else.

"It's going to sound crazy."

"Crazy is good. Crazy is interesting." She leaned forward propping her head on one hand.

Now what? Where was he even supposed to start? "You know Batman?" He felt silly talking about a hero who he hadn't known about until a few days ago.

She blinked a few times, uncomprehending. He waited for a spark of recognition, but it didn't come. OK that was strange. She should know that Batman existed at the very least. It had only taken about five seconds of digging for him to uncover a mountain of rumors about his supposed alter ego. Living in the hero's home town, there was no way she wouldn't know about him. Except, he hadn't know. His brain made another of those random connections.

"You've got your computer?"

"When do I not?" She pulled out her computer, balancing it on her knees.

"Do a search, 'Gotham superhero'."

When she hit enter the number of sites that came back was over ten thousand. Each of them expounded on the various rumors of the Dark Knight. Terry stole the last of her fries while she scanned page after page. After her initial shock she went into research mode, picking apart the patterns for the underlying facts. It didn't take her long to discover the basic history. He could see that she was dying to ask a million different questions. Before she could get the words out, he asked the important one.

"Why didn't you already know?" The theory building in the back of his mind made just a little too much sense.

"Start talking McGinnis." Suddenly, he had her undivided attention.

Terry stood, casually swinging his bag up over one shoulder. . He was in too deep now to back out. The real question was where to start. His story could sound like crazy fiction far too easily. He nodded in the general direction of his place.

"Walk with me."

Max dropped her plate in a plastic bin under a sign that said 'Please bus your own tables' and took a few extra steps to catch up to him.

"Where were you Tuesday morning?" His tone was casual enough but there was still the sense that it was an interrogation.

"Um…" She hesitated and her steps faltered. Max had to step into a quick jog when she realized she was falling behind again.

"What about Monday?" Terry slid another fact into place. "What made you miss school?"

This time when her steps slowed she didn't bother trying to catch up. After a few steps Terry paused as well turning back to look at her. The few blocks they had walked had taken them away from the University. There were fewer people on the streets, and most of those were quick paced rather than casual strollers. The sky was beginning to cloud over and the temperature dropped several degrees as the sun was obscured.

"I can't remember." Her voice wasn't overly quiet, but Terry probably wouldn't have heard it if he had been standing any farther away.

"Why?" she dropped the word between them letting it fall heavily to the pavement.

Terry shifted his hips, turning on his heels to face her. A part of him was feeling hopelessly lost. He should have been working through the logic, finding examples to support his new theory. Instead he had jumped to the conclusion that she was involved. There was no doubt, only stubborn insistence of a fact he couldn't prove. He knew it was the wrong way to go about this. Even so, it was his own mind, his own emotions. He had always trusted his instincts, trusted himself to see the important details. Stubborn anger pushed him to fight against this different version of himself. On the other hand, fighting himself, just for the sake of argument wasn't exactly going to be productive.

He took a pair of long steps forward. Letting his bag slide down his arm he reached into the side pocket, pulling out an object they were both familiar with. When Max had found the batarang stuck in the ceiling the other night he hadn't yet been clued in. Holding it now, he flipped the blades open with casual grace.

"This belongs to me." He paused, looking down at it. Was that really true now that he had walked out on Wayne, or did that even matter? "Batman uses them."

Max was getting over her shock. She looked at the red and black throwing star in Terry's hand. "That stuff on the web. Terry, you are not suggesting what I think you are. That would just be like, insane. Besides, you're the last person I would ever expect to…" she trailed off waving one hand in a fluttery gesture.

He hadn't yet met her eyes. Rolling one shoulder, he shifted his grip on the batarang . "You really think so?" With a twist, and a flick of his wrist the batarang curved through the air. It struck a wall nearly 50 feet away, embedded itself perfectly between three bricks. When Terry went to retrieve it he found the point buried half an inch into the mortar.

Max had followed him. She was looking at him now with wide eyes, her mouth twitching slightly as if she didn't know whether to start asking questions or get defensive. He pulled out the batarang , flipping it closed as easily as another person might handle a pocket knife. Palming it he rocked back on his heels, turning to casually survey the street.

"I've had a couple of crazy days, Max. I won't drag you into this if you don't want to be involved. It's probably safer in any case. If you do want in, it doesn't go further than the two of us. No matter what you think, no matter how crazy it sounds, you follow my lead and my rules." He had told her enough already that he knew he had her hooked. She wasn't the type to back out. Better to have these ground rules established at the beginning though.

She didn't work through the logic as quickly as he might have, but she knew him well enough to catch all the key points.

"McGinnis, if you keep dragging me around like this you will never have access to any of my notes again, no matter what classes you miss. Just spill already."

Terry took a breath and found himself rubbing at the back of his neck again. "We think it started on Tuesday, or Wayne thinks. Anyway, that's when things started feeling strange..." They walked, he talked, laying out the events of the last several days. It took a while. It seemed like more had happened in the last five days then in any six months out of the rest of his life. Of course, that was without the memories he was missing. When taken from that point of view who knows. This could be an average week.

Max mostly listened, occasionally she would step in to ask a question, but overall she seemed unsure of what to think. Her expression shifted between disbelief, skepticism, and a couple flavors of anxiety and fear.

When he finally brought the story up to the present, clouds had settled into a layer of overcast that was bringing on an early evening. They had wandered mostly aimlessly while walking, ending up near the small kid friendly park by his place. A group of kids around Matt's age were playing soccer on the field, but the play structure was empty. Terry let his hand trail over the chains of the swings, listening to the sounds of the links falling back into place.

Max let herself slump into one of the swings, and after a moment Terry slid into the one beside her. By this point, he was just waiting for her reaction. There was that possibility that she would throw her hands in the air, declare the whole situation crazy, leave, and hopefully pretend this conversation had never happened. If she was feeling particularly vindictive she could start telling everybody he was crazy. Not that he had much of a reputation to ruin but it certainly wouldn't make anything easier.

It took a few minutes but eventually she shook her head. "McGinnis, you really are an idiot. How could you possibly walk away from something like that?" Her eyes sparkled, as her words quickly picked up speed. "You're a superhero, and not one of those one-shot wonders who can only do one thing. You get to play with tech thats cutting edge, which is totally schway because then you don't have any weaknesses. This is big, I'm talking A-list here. From what was on the web, and what you said, the legacy for this has to be huge."

Terry shook his head. "This is me we're talking about. Huge, isn't a word I'd use to describe it."

"Oh come on, you had your memory erased. Hell, it's not even just you. They went after your friends. That's practically a prerequisite of being a hero. All you need now is time travel or another dimension or someone to come back from the dead to make the whole situation complete."

All things considered, he really should have expected that reaction. She didn't get it of course, how dangerous all this really was, or maybe she did. Max had never been one to run from danger. Neither had he, until now.

Of course he hadn't left because of the danger; he wasn't afraid of getting hurt. But when it came to his mind - his very self - that was a different matter.

"You've got to go back."

"No Max –"

"You can't let it end like this."

"I'm not –"

She leaned over sticking a finger in his face. "You're doing exactly what they want right now. If you let them win this, then the bad guys killed off one of Earth's major heroes. It doesn't matter if Terry McGinnis is still alive, because Batman will be 6 feet under."

"Oh please, this is a joke. Whoever heard of some kid with a juvie record becoming an A-list hero. You said it yourself, I don't have any powers. Take away all the fancy tech, and I'm no one. If Gotham needs Batman so much, Wayne can find someone else to wear the suit."

Max leaned back and sideways twisting the swing until she was facing him. "If just anyone could wear the suit then you wouldn't have gotten it in the first place."

Terry was suddenly standing. His feet grinding into the dirt as he put a few yards between them. He hated the insult, only it wasn't one. She was twisting everything around, pushing at him until he either gave in or blew up. At this point he didn't know which one would happen first. He wanted to scream at her. The only thing really holding him back was the fact that he knew this wasn't him.

"Why did you become Batman?" Her voice was so unconcerned, as if she was asking him to pass the salt. It was such a leading question too, but now that she had said it Terry couldn't help but wonder himself.

The memories were gone, but the emotions weren't, and neither were the facts. The timeline was simple to work out of course. Wayne was the center of it. Terry's whole life had changed back then, with his dad, the new job.

The fire slowly drained out of him, leaving his limbs weak and his body shivering. It had been for his dad. Somehow, that changed everything. The dark figure of Batman changed in his mind. It wasn't a demon waiting for the right moment to slip its chains. It was... not an angel, it was still too dark for that. It was a spirit. It was justice and vengeance tied together with the need to protect, holding onto the pieces that survived.

He really was an idiot.

"I'm not sure I can do this."

Max came over, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I am."

* * *

Hey everyone, I like how this chapter came out. It was one of those things that I didn't plan but just kind of appeared. Like Barbara Max wasn't supposed to be a big character.

Since I know some of you will be thinking it, no, I do not ship Terry-Max. I'm not against the idea but I don't plan on writing any of that in my stories.

What you _will_ be seeing is who did it. Next chapter all will be revealed. Any more guesses about who it will be?

Thank you to Lenorathetrekkie, nequam-tenshi, Harm Marie, V, MirokuTK, and Sinister for reviewing.

Lastly if any of you are fans of the Flash or the JLA, specifically the Justice Lords parallel universe. I would point you toward Afterimage. It's going to be my next epic and I'm currently switching off updating that and this so you should all go take a look.

:)


	30. Chapter 30

Partners chapter 30

The alert from the computer was a small thing. It didn't beep, and the computers voice didn't say anything. A small icon just appeared, glowing slightly in the corner of the screen. Robin noticed it and blinked, having no idea what the symbol meant. Wayne was already moving. Reaching for his cane and pushing himself to his feet, despite the fact that his back was to the screen so he couldn't have known.

He took his place in the chair before the screen. Ace followed the old man keeping his eyes on Robin. For his part, Robin made it a point to stay out of the range of those teeth. They took places on either side of Wayne, watching as the old man brought up the recovered file.

The video was from a traffic camera and gave a fair view of the length of the street. At first Robin didn't realize what they were looking at, until a parade of police cars entered the scene. The large police transport van was what really gave it away. This was the video from the night before, when shriek had escaped. Robin leaned forward, his hands tightening on the back of Wayne's chair.

The procession slowed at the intersection. There hadn't been time to put up any roadblocks or redirect traffic. The second cruiser was in the middle of the intersection when the blue sedan entered the scene. Robin's attention was immediately drawn to the car. It wasn't that it was going particularly fast or doing anything particularly odd, but his attention was immediately drawn to it.

A burst of brief static marked the beginning of the damaged part of the film.

The car pulled up to the intersection, and then kept going. As it passed the crosswalk the police started to take notice. One of the cars turned on its sound system.

"Stop! This is a GCPD operation." When the vehicle showed no sign of stopping, or even slowing down, one of the cars from the procession started to intercept.

The collision wasn't impressive. The cars couldn't have been going more than 20 miles an hour. The policeman must have been surprised, there was absolutely no reaction from the sedan. There were a few seconds when no one reacted. Then came the explosion.

The blue car lit up in a flash with a sound that the recording couldn't fully process. There was another short burst of static on the film. When it cleared, a man stood beside the left front bumper of the blue car. Wayne showed no signs of immediate recognition, but Robin felt his stomach tie itself in a knot.

There were some villains that weren't overly recognizable, Spellbinder wasn't one of them. He was leaning against the side of the car, one hand upraised holding his glowing orb. The orb cast a white light across the scene in a slow, almost hypnotic rhythm.

The screaming started only a moment later. A pair of officers scrambled out of their vehicle. They were firing over their shoulders into empty air. First one then three and six, of the cars opened up with their blasters, shooting outward in every direction. Windows shattered, the falling glass catching the strobe light like a million prisms. The camera shook, shifting off kilter until it was tilted sideways as result of the blast wave.

Someone panicked, hitting the gas and sending one of the police cruisers swerving forward. It hit a car that had been parked lifelessly on the curb. More glass went flying along with the twisting crunch of the collision.

The film seemed to jump into motion as everything started happening at once. The police were going crazy. The officers had abandoned their vehicles, incessantly battling whatever illusions they were seeing. Others had locked themselves in, in a panic to escape the nightmares. Though the sounds from the film were muted, it was clear that at least some of the officers were trying to establish an ordered defense. It was equally clear that they were failing.

Groups of two or three officers would bind together, as if fighting off the same force; only to turn on each other moments later. Patches of glass turned red as people ran, and in their desperation slipped. It had taken maybe 30 seconds for the area to become a war zone.

Spellbinder walked through it like he was out on a Sunday stroll. He would take a few paces, than stop to watch a pair of officers struggle, or to bend over a fallen man as if he was some curiosity. Slowly he made his way across the camera's field of vision. When he was about to leave the scene, it froze.

Robin had gotten so caught up in the events he had nearly forgotten it was just a recording. He pulled himself back in, locking the mounting anxiety behind as much cheap bravado as he could gather. Wayne was typing away frantically at the keyboard. He split the screen, leaving the video they had been watching paused on the bottom half, while the upper half was filled with another of the clips that had been repaired. At his command the clips began playing simultaneously.

On the lower half of the screen Spellbinder slowly walked off panel. On the upper half he continued until he reached the transport that had held Shriek. The transport van had collided with another vehicle, the other car hitting it broadside on. The side of the van was crumpled inward until it almost seemed like it was leaning over. The doors to the back hung open and empty.

Still acting like a casual stroller Spellbinder circled the van, admiring it like it was some unique piece of modern art. When he reached the back he leaned over to peer inside. He didn't touch the van, it was somehow beneath him.

Though Spellbinder's back was turned, Robin saw Shriek enter the scene. Shriek was marching through the chaos, unaffected by it. His white battle suit had been divested of its arms and stained with dirt, soot and blood. He didn't seem to mind.

Behind him he dragged a young unconscious officer. At first Robin thought Ian was dead. Logic pretested though, if he was dead why would Shriek bother with him.

Spellbinder turned to face Shriek. A shiver went down Robin's spine as the two began a brief argument. Their words couldn't be heard, and with both of them masked there was no way to read their lips or expressions.

Spellbinder waved a hand in a horizontal negative ending gesture. Shriek leaned forward slightly getting in the other man's face. He dragged Ian across the ground, gesturing with the unconscious cop as if he was making some infallible argument. Spellbinder turned away and probably would've crossed his arms as he wasn't still holding the flashing orb. Shriek made a rude gesture and started marching away, still dragging Ian. Spellbinder eventually followed, though his walk gave away his anger.

Wayne found three more cameras along their trail until they disappeared into the subway tunnels. When he couldn't follow them any longer Wayne leaned back in his chair steepling his fingers in thought.

Robin stared blankly at the screen for several seconds. "Spellbinder."

Wayne leaned forward just enough to tap a few keys then returned to his previous position.

"That," Robin's speech was almost jerky, speeding up and slowing down as he danced between ideas. "That works. Crazy but, no it isn't. Only, that time with Commissioner… So maybe not. This is something new. Of course it would be a little different. How on earth did he find?"

"They were working together." Wayne had brought up the files on the two villains. The old man's eyes danced over the information, taking it in and processing it faster than Robin ever could have. Robin waited for the old man's judgment.

"You said his name was Spellbinder? And his abilities, some kind of hypnosis?" Robin wasn't really expected to answer. It was more like Wayne was confirming his own thoughts. "That fits with the other facts. Shriek was a little too free with the information, he had to have been involved. With the timeline, there was only one point where Terry was unaccounted for. The phone call was the only opportunity for someone to a erase Terry's memory, which meant it had to be an auditory delivery system."

Matt watched as Wayne murmured to himself. One of his hands was running across the keyboard while the other had drifted down to stroke Ace's head. He didn't seem to be paying attention to either action, instead staring into the middle distance where the walls of the cave faded into the dark.

"It doesn't make sense for Shriek to be the only culprit though. He could certainly do the auditory conversion. His program to convert digital data to analog sound waves was what made him famous in his field. But that's just it, he's a sound engineer not a psychologist or neurologist. Even if he could come up with the technology to wipe someone's memory he wouldn't know which parts of the brain to attack. Spellbinder, so obvious, I might've seen it days ago if I had my memories. I had been going through the archives but there were so many of them. This settles it though. Even if they aren't responsible for our predicament, the two of them together are an enormous threat to the city."

Robin was ecstatic. His emotions were going crazy. This was what he'd always imagined it would be like. They had finally found the bad guys and now it was time to go and take them down. Fear and excitement, determination and righteous fury all bubbled together making him giddy until he realized the flaw in his idea. Terry was gone. He had walked out on them, and until he came back – if he came back – they didn't have a Batman. Over the years the different Robins had taken on plenty of different villains. This Robin though, had only just put on the Cape. He couldn't handle it alone. They needed Terry.

Well, they weren't going to get Terry back by standing around now were they? Robin turned and started across the cave. He was pretty sure he'd seen the rest of his costume on a table somewhere.

Wayne turned in his chair watching the boy. "And where are you going?"

"Hunting. We're 12 hours behind Shriek and Spellbinder. We need to find them, and while we're at it I need to find Terry. He may have run off like that, but he's never let me down before. He'll come back. He has to. Until he does I can do the legwork and you can direct me from here."

Wayne had his hands settled in front of him on his cane. His voice was even more of a monotone than it normally was. "You're assuming I'll let you go. The situation hasn't changed. It's still too dangerous for an untrained child to get mixed up in this."

Robin paused, then turned back to the old man grinning like a minx. "Well it's not like I'm the first one to steal one of your suits and run off without permission." Robin suited up, checked his belt and headed for the car.

Ian wasn't surprised to be alive, or surprised to be awake or anything like that. To be surprised he would've needed to be able to string thoughts together and at this point that wasn't really happening. The glowing numbers on the radio proclaimed it to be at least 12 hours since he had last been conscious. He must've passed out, not exactly surprising considering his condition. He hurt. He hurt a lot. The pain from before hadn't just been multiplied, it had been squared.

The dim light pierced him every time he tried to open his eyes. Every sound seemed to echo, reverberating inside his skull. His skin was practically on fire. The tape, or rope, or whatever it was that was tying him to this chair was sending a slow draft of pain into him through his skin. Even the lightest touch of clothing and hair became a source of aggravated itching.

His only relief came intermittently. In no regular pattern, drops of ice touched water would fall to kiss his skin. It was a small blessing. One drop at a time the water washed away his pain along with the grime coating him. Ian tried to roll his head back to let more of the water roll across his face. Collecting in his hair, the water found its way down the back of his neck.

Thoughts eventually found their way together into sentences. Questions built themselves up from single words, then fell apart since there was no way to answer them. Where am I? What happened? Why do I hurt so much? Eventually a question managed to stick, refusing to let go until he actually considered it. What now? He didn't have an answer of course, but that didn't stop the question from running around his mind like a hyperactive four-year-old.

In an act of desperation Ian tried to open his eyes again. Pain, lightning, a kaleidoscope of color. Yellow-greens mixed with light glowing blues, clashing with pulsing red shapes. Ian squinted through his eyelashes trying desperately to find the shapes he had identified earlier as the clock. It came slowly. The numbers seemed too small and far away to be what he remembered.

From the glowing numbers of the clock he worked his way outwards. Each object was slowly isolated, identified, and nailed into reality. Until eventually, Ian had a reasonably good idea of his surroundings.

The room was large, and oddly proportioned. It didn't feel like a room as much as a space that had been kind of jumbled together. The walls were mostly made up of concrete cinder blocks while old metal piping and brick work added notable themes. In the center of the room several cheap tables had been assembled. Various electronic equipment had been stacked on top of them, their wires hanging down in lazy tangled loops. Several large screens were the primary sources of light, casting green and blue across the space in angular patterns.

The chair Ian was tied to had been jammed into a corner. The chair itself was a cheap flimsy thing like the tables, but his captors hadn't taken any chances with a possible escape. The rope secured not only him to the chair but the chair to the wall, and several pipes that jutted from the wall.

Movement finally forced his eyes to focus properly. In the center of the room, moving between the tables was a figure in red. The man was just a shape at first, indistinct, without definition. The red stripe of a figure slowly came into focus as a silhouette against the glowing screens.

Ian's first real cohesive thought was, 'my God, I am in over my head.' As if one overpowered super criminal wasn't enough. Shriek had been bad, but dealing with Spellbinder as well, it was a wonder he wasn't dead already. Somebody had to have it out for him. No one could have luck this bad.

After short but careful consideration Ian decided to play dead. It wasn't like he was up to moving that much anyway. Escape was definitely out of the question. Drawing more attention to himself was probably the worst thing he could do right now. It didn't take all that much acting ability to pretend he was still unconscious.

Spellbinder didn't leave the computer. Ian found himself watching the man, mostly because he was the only thing to watch. Spellbinders fingers slid over the keys using short darting motions. Whatever he was doing had consumed him. All his focus was on the screen and keys, like some kind of pianist going through a complex concerto. Ian couldn't get a good look at Spellbinder's face. Even if the angle hadn't been wrong, he had his mask on. The rest of him though, was curved taught like a bow, full of tension held at bay.

As slow as his thought process was, Ian still managed to understand that this was his chance. Perhaps his only chance. Whether they had been pressed for time or just sloppy, his kidnappers hadn't taken his equipment. Since his gun had already been lost perhaps they didn't think they needed to. The radio he had lent to Robin was in its normal place on his belt. Not that he could reach it with his hands tied behind him, but all he had to do was hit a button to turn it on.

Ian shifted, bending slightly. He could hopefully press the button with his leg or even the ropes. Shifting soon became quiet flailing. Was this bad luck going to last forever, or just until he ended up dead? Spellbinder half turned, and noticed the movement in his peripheral vision. Too late Ian tried to freeze, but Spellbinder was already coming his way. Apparently Ian's luck was holding out for the death option.

Spellbinder leaned forward as he came closer, his hands hooked behind his back as if Ian was some kind of interesting exhibit to be seen but not touched. Even with the mask you could practically see the discussed.

"So, you're awake." Spellbinders voice was educated, but the overtones of snobbish entitlement and cheap airs ruined the effect. Spellbinder reached up pressing his hand against the wall over Ian's right shoulder, and leaned in close. "Listen close, because this is your one warning. If it were up to me you wouldn't be here, you wouldn't even be alive. I will not hesitate to kill you if given even the slightest reason. So please, please try something because the minute you do I won't have to deal with you anymore."

"He's my hostage Spellbinder."

At first Ian didn't recognize the man who entered. The man was on the ugly side of average, though that may have been partially because he looked like a wreck. There were black circles under his eyes which were red rimmed, the veins standing out harshly. His hair, what there was of it had been buzzed so close to his scalp that red lines had been etched across his skull. The rest of his features were thin and gaunt. Even though his words had been casual, his voice reasonable, everything else about him spoke of a man on the edge of madness.

Ian finally pinned face to name. It was Shriek of course, now completely devoid of his sound suit. The headset he wore to enhance his damaged hearing was the only piece of technology he was openly carrying.

Ian saw a wave of tension run through Spellbinder as the two men faced each other. A moment later he was perfectly at ease again.

"You're wasting your time."

Shriek stepped forward until there was less than a foot between them. "Why? Because you can't admit that I'm the one that found him? Or maybe because you don't want to admit that all your scheming was a waste?"

Apparently that struck a nerve. The tension in the room jumped several notches as the two men faced off in a heavy silence.

"Do you have something to say about my work?" Spellbinder's cool façade was cracking revealing the fury underneath.

Shriek didn't bother trying to hide his emotions. His smug satisfaction would have been obvious to a blind man. "Well, your work wasn't exactly up to standard now was it? All those boasts and Batman still shows up to crash the party. Maybe if you didn't need me to do all the dirty work."

Ian thought that Shriek was going to get punched. Spellbinder looked like he was close enough to the edge for it. When he spoke his voice had lost that oil and vinegar feel; it had been replaced by rage and contempt.

"If it wasn't for me you would still be rotting in that jail cell thinking up new ways for Batman to catch you."

Shriek's retaliation came before Spellbinder even had a chance to finish. "You would still be hiding in a hole if it wasn't for me. I'm the one who figured out who Batman is. I'm the one who fought him. I'm the one who captured him."

Wait, what? When had Ian missed that? Even stranger, the tension in the room had suddenly dropped, as if it had never been.

Spellbinder let out a light, but mocking laugh. "Point of fact, you wouldn't have your little hostage here if I hadn't taken the time to cover my tracks by getting you out, for a second time. And when Batman comes crashing through the wall or the ceiling you'll know just how wrong you are."

Spellbinder turned as if the other man was suddenly beneath his notice. Moving back to the computer he hit a few keys, pulled out a data drive, and stalked out into the darkness. A sneer painted Shriek's features as he watched the man leave. Only once Spellbinder's footsteps could no longer be heard did he turn back to the room.

"Dreg." Shriek spit the word after the other villain, finally turning in Ian's direction. "Now, I think it's time we had a chat."

Ian flinched away from the madman. On his belt Ian's radio connected with the arm of the chair and silently turned on.

* * *

It had taken longer than she liked, but Barbara had managed to beat that doctor at his own game. Considering the recent developments in the break out case and Shriek's recent attack, it had been decided by the officer in charge that her security demanded level four clearance. Unfortunately her current doctor didn't qualify. Sgt. Weaver had made it very clear that if he even stepped into the hallway that led to Barbara's room there could be a fine in excess of $10,000.

Someone with the proper clearance, a Dr. Cross, was being flown in from Metropolis General, but until he arrived Sgt. Weaver was the only one with the authority to authorize entry or exit from the area. Barbara of course was off-duty and completely without any authority in the situation, but that didn't mean she couldn't strike up a conversation with an old colleague.

"Are you sure you don't mind us being in your bedroom Commissioner?"

Barbara leaned back against her stack of pillows at ease in the midst of the bustle that had invaded her room. Weaver stood next to the bed, his gaze shifting back and forth from the activity to her.

"Of course I'm sure. This room is too big for one person, and it's not like you could set up in the lobby. You would just get in everyone's way. Besides, I've never been able to stand daytime TV."

"Yes well, technically speaking you are on leave…" He hesitated. It took Barbara a moment to realize he didn't want to say her first name. For a grown man he was adorably awkward.

"Ma'am." He finally finished the sentence. "Until you return to active duty I cannot share confidential information about an active case."

She pretended to think about it. It was just like Weaver to cover all the bases.

"You can close the separators. If you lend me a radio than I can just listen to soothing music and get my rest. I won't even know you're here."

Weaver almost started to salute, but caught himself. "Yes ma'am."

The dividers wouldn't stop her from hearing things of course, but that wasn't the point. The point was plausible deniability. Barbara scanned through the police channels on her borrowed radio. Gotham PD had 15 secure radio frequencies, 10 were actively used in various parts of the city while the other five were reserved for emergency situations. Weaver couldn't openly tell her what frequency they were using at the moment so Barbara had to go through them until she found the right one. She was distracted before she found it.

"What do you want?"

"Power, wealth, revenge, but you already know about that last one."

The first voice was thin and higher pitched. The second was louder, but coming from farther away. Barbara checked the frequency. Eleven, that was one of the emergency channels. It shouldn't have been in use.

"You've got the wrong person. Whatever your plan is, I'm no one I –"

"Yes you would think so." The second voice interrupted the first, breaking through the shaky words like they weren't even there. "Spellbinder is a pretentious ass but he does do good work, all give him that."

"I don't know what you're talking about. "The first voice was getting desperate, panicked.

"Yes, that was the point, wasn't it. Take away the memories and Batman is just a man. Almost thought it worked too. Then the papers got a hold of you taking down Mad Stan."

There was a pause, and Barbara could hear the tension through the line. Someone was breathing in short hard gasps. She suspected it was the owner of the first voice.

Both of these voices were familiar, but hearing them over the radio twisted the sounds just enough to make thim hard to identify. It wasn't made any easier by the fact that neither of them were apparently speaking into the radio. It was like someone had just left it on in a room and these men had started up a conversation. Only it wasn't exactly a normal conversation, and encoding the radio to broadcast onto police frequencies wasn't nearly as easy as encoding one to pick them up.

"Spellbinder thought he was so clever. All his algorithms and hypnotizing that girl."

Barbara finally managed to place the second voice. It was Shriek.

His voice grew both louder and quieter, as if he was lowering his voice while moving closer to the radio. "But he missed someone didn't he? I'm betting it was that bitch of a Commissioner, wasn't it? Wasn't it?" He screamed the last two words and Barbara jerked, nearly dropping the radio in reaction.

The other man didn't reply, but Barbara could hear him hyperventilating.

"You see, I think I've got it pretty much all worked out." Shriek wasn't shouting anymore. His voice actually sounded reasonable. On a man who was so clearly out of his mind it was absolutely terrifying. "Maybe the Commissioner decides she wants someone who can work outside the rules, or hell maybe she just gets in over her head. Everyone knows her father had a connection with the first Batman. So she goes out and finds someone to put on the suit. He would have to be young, maybe a bit naïve, not afraid to break the rules, but he also had to have some training. And of course he would have to follow orders. It makes perfect sense that she would choose someone from her own ranks."

"What?"

Barbara was asking the same question. She had finally managed to place the voice, it was Ian. The last time she'd seen officer Hawk was when Shriek had been taken away. She hadn't really given him a thought since waking up in the hospital. How had he managed to wind up in a mess like this? As far as she remembered she had ordered him to clock out and get some rest.

Shriek continued to monologue.

"Presto brand new Bat. Only, this bat isn't as careful as the last one. You made a mistake when Spellbinder got ahold of that girl of yours. The way he tells it you ignored the rest of the hostages and practically kissed her in the middle of the fight."

"I don't know what you're talking about, but if you hurt Susan..."

"If it was up to me she would already be dead." Shriek's voice was bitter or spiteful more then angry. "Spellbinder didn't want to tip his hand so he let her go. Not that it did much good. Should have just killed that pink haired bitch."

"Pink?"

Was it just Barbra's imagination or did Ian sound monumentally confused. And Shriek thought that Ian was this Batman character? That was impossible. Or was it? Had they ever been seen together? Had they ever been reported to be in different places at the same time? She had never seen Batman but her instincts told her Ian wasn't him.

"After the news bites said you took down Stan I knew Spellbinder's plan had failed. I had to do things myself like always. Two of the numbers were blocked but the third. That's where you made your next mistake."

"I told you I'm not who you think I am. I'm not Batman. I don't know what number's you're talking about?"

Shriek laughed. Barbra had heard plenty of hysterical laughs in her time and this one definitely qualified. When he finished, the silence on the other end of the line started to stretch. There was enough background sound that Barbra knew the signal hadn't been cut off but not enough to tell what anyone was doing.

There was a click and Ian began to speak, only now his voice was different, lighter more conversational, and there was something else.

"Commissioners office."

Of course, it was a recording. In the recording Shriek replied.

"Who is this?"

"Officer Hawk, may I ask who's calling?"

"What is your full name?"

"I'm sorry, What was the nature of your call?"

"I'll find you, do you hear me -" Click.

Shriek turned off the recording. "Did you know that voices are like fingerprints?" Shriek's voice was back to being reasonable. "Once I had your voice print it was easy to identify you when I was forced into the open. First you were outside, then you vanish and Batman shows up. When Batman vanishes you miraculously turn up right next to the commissioner. I have all the proof I need wether you remember or not."

* * *

So have I blown you minds yet? This chapter may have been hard to write but god was it worth it. This chapter hasn't been beta'd, but it's been long enough since my last post that I thought i'd just hand it over to you guys.

Thank you to Kitsune Foxfire, Jimmy Candlestick, Lacewing, Harm Marie, V and Lenorathetrekkie for reviewing chapter 29.

Please review and tell me what you think about the reveal.


	31. Chapter 31

"I have all the proof I need wether you remember or not." Shriek's words came through the radio as a gleeful whisper.

Then the screaming started.

Robin tried to focus on the car. It was on autopilot so there wasn't much for him to do even if he had known how to drive. Mostly he just couldn't let himself think about exactly what was happening on the other end of the radio. After months of listening to Terry take people down Robin was fairly accurate when it came to identifying what damage was being done by sound alone.

The fact that it was Ian only made it worse. He knew Ian just enough to like him without really knowing much about the man. If it had been anyone he knew well he could have gotten angry, or if it had been a stranger he could have analyzed it clinically. Now he was stuck in the middle where fear could target him. No, he couldn't let himself panic or freeze, that wouldn't do anyone any good. Normally he wasn't one to jump in head first, and the screams from the radio had made it very clear how dangerous that would be, but at this point every other option ended up with people dead. Of course, this option might end up with him dead.

Robin tried not to think about that either.

The car couldn't trace the signal from Ian's radio directly. Instead Robin was forced to fly a grid pattern over whole sections of the city, slowly narrowing down the target area. All the while the quiet screams played out from the radio. It was hard to listen to, but Robin didn't dare turn it all the way off. If he did and he missed something...

It wasn't the first time he had wanted to crawl away, find a hiding spot and pull it in after him, but it was the first time he seriously considered it. He had been ordered to stay out of things. Wayne was probably monitoring him right now. That would have been a comfort if there had been anything Wayne could do to back him up, or controversy, to stop him.

The old man had always seemed like a distant and legendary figure the few times Matt had met him before all of this. After spending time in his company Wayne seemed even more alien, fractured somehow, though if the cause was the loss of memory or something else from before, Matt had no way of knowing. If anything happened to Matt, yes Wayne would be sad, but more because of the loss of a potential tool then at the loss of a person. There was no comfort there.

If he died Terry would only find out what happened second hand, and then only after it was too late for anything to be done. Matt's mom would never know the truth. He wondered what they would tell her.

The car finally stopped over a small cluster of buildings. Together they formed a U shape around a central loading dock. The neighborhood was on the edge of old-town, the bad edge where the buildings were so old it was a wonder any of them were even still standing. This part of the city hadn't seen any renovation money in decades, even with the support of Wayne-Powers. The amount of lead in the paint combined with all the old copper in the pipes and wiring was probably what was causing the interference. No wonder he couldn't get a better trace.

He sat in the camouflaged car, just hovering in the air, and found that he was shaking. The screams had gotten to him more than anything else from the past week. The theoretical danger of Mad Stan had been just that, theoretical. The threatening danger of watching his brother go down in the fight against Shriek had been short and sharp, he hadn't had time to react.

Matt looked down at his gloved hands. How could he think that he had any chance of survival. He was helpless and alone and untrained and a million other things that all boiled down to being dead if he went in there.

But Matt was trying not to think about that, and Robin wasn't thinking about it at all. At least that's what he told himself. Because maybe if he just kept pretending, somewhere along the line it would stop being pretending.

Robin hit the button to open the car's canopy. It got maybe half way open before it reversed direction and closed again. Robin frowned up at the canopy and hit the button sharply for a second time. This time the door only opened about two inches before it closed. The first reaction this summoned was relief, Robin quickly covered it with a glare.

"Batcar, voice override: open the door."

There was only a single beat before the cool feminine voice of the computer answered. "Command accepted." the door did not open and a bare moment later the computer continued. "Command override, authority level omega."

Robin had no idea what command level omega was, but the list of people who had access to the system was, at that moment, extremely short. It wasn't like Robin really wanted to go in there, but having the choice taken so abruptly out of his hands had sparked something.

Rebellion flared and his next words came out in a voice that was only loosely related to his normal one. "Open the door old man."

"No." The reply that came through was bedrock hard granite. Robin could practically see Wayne sitting back in his chair, one hand on his cane as he leveled his gaze like a fencers sword.

Well, if the old man was going to be stone, Robin would just have to be water, and ware him down by inches. "So you have a plan then. Great, let's hear it. Bring on the cavalry."

Robin waited as the silence began to lengthen. If Wayne had had a plan it would have taken quite a bit of wind out of his sales but that didn't seem to be the case.

After nearly two minutes in which the only sounds were of quiet pain from the other end of the police band Robin broke the silence. "I'm going to help him. Open the door."

"No, you are not."

Well, never let it be said that either of them ran from a fight.

"I have to go in. There's no one else who can help."

"It is not your responsibility to trade your life for his. He's a cop. He knew the risks."

"Shriek thinks he's Batman that makes it our responsibility."

"That make's it my responsibility." Wayne laid a cutting emphasis on the word my.

Robin threw back his retort with as much force as he could manage. "No, that make's it Terry's responsibility." pulling air into his chest, his next words came out with more intensity then volume. "but he's not here. Batman is gone. I'm the only option, the only chance he has."

Wayne cut him off. "Tho police."

"Can't handle this. Gordon was the only one who might have been able to help and she's in a hospital bed."

"Terry." Wayne's voice was growing frustrated and Robin once again cut apart his thoughts and words.

"Is gone, and by the time he comes to his senses it will be too late. I am the only option."

Wayne's voice went from frustrated to angry and cold. "I have the most advanced computer system in the world at my fingertips. I can do more from this chair then you could do in a lifetime."

Robin fell back against the seat. He hadn't fully realized how much he had been pushing the old man until that moment. Robin was terrible at reading emotions. How far would Bruce Wayne have to be pushed before he cracked enough for Robin to tell. And that wasn't even counting how Robin had been able to slice apart his arguments. The figure of the original Batman was legendary. Robin should have been swatted back into his place if even a fraction of the stories were true. Slag, this was worse then Robin had feared.

Maybe he should just leave off. Trying to save Ian wouldn't help get back the memories that were stolen. That had to be the priority, right? The screams from the radio had turned into moans interspersed with the occasional harsh gasp.

"no."

"What did you say?" Wayne's voice was still angry, still ready for the fight that Robin had given up on.

"No." the word was louder this time. Robin fixed his eyes on the communicator that connected him to the cave. "I can't just sit here, and you can't do anything from your end. If you called for help, that's basically Batman admitting he can't handle something as small as this. You can't remember them but there are plenty of villains out there who only stay in their holes out of fear. Calling in the League or the Titans or the Outsiders, you could do it, but the minute this ended we'd have 50 others jumping down our throats."

There was a pause before Wayne spoke, and when he did, the anger had faded though it was still unmovable. "I will not make the choice to trade your life for his."

Robin's hand fell naturally to his belt. "My choice, not yours."

"The hell it is. You are an untrained child, currently in my care, and without even the proper knowledge of the equipment you carry."

Robin rolled his eyes. He was getting seriously tired of that argument. His age and the training were the only real reasons Wayne, Terry and even Gordon had against him. It wasn't like he was the first twelve-year-old in history to put on a mask.

"Sorry old man, but my suit doesn't have an off switch. Last chance to open the door."

Wayne's answer was to lock the car into autopilot and shut down all interior controls.

The last option Robin was left with was a crazy one, but it was what Terry, what Batman, would do. Robin borrowed strength along with his brother's words and pulled the micro explosives from his belt.

The explosion was magnified by the enclosed space, the sounds reverberating off the buildings around the car. Robin slowly uncurled from the ball he had made of himself in the footwell. His cape had taken most of the force that had come in his direction. The air was surprisingly free of debris, so for a moment Robin panicked. It hadn't worked, and if the explosives hadn't worked nothing else in his arsenal would be able to help. Then the soft light indicating the lock wend out and a hissing sound made it's way into Robin's still ringing ears.

With a push the door slid open, sending a cascade of sparks across the control panel. Robin winced. Hopefully Wayne would still have some control from the cave, because the controls on this end looked fried to his admittedly inexperienced eye.

No point in worrying about that now though. With the systems shorted out he could no longer hear the police band. There would be no way to tell what was happening to Ian until he went down there and saw for himself. Robin paused with one leg over the side of the car to once again push away the inner voices that were pointing out everything that could go wrong.

Robin's short jump to the roof caused the wood to creak in a wet wheeze. His arms went out automatically trying to keep his balance as the beams sagged under him. Several tense seconds passed until finally the building seemed to settle a little lower, accepting his weight.

Robin tried to breath very slowly and carefully as he started down the slope of the roof. He felt it when the boards gave way. They squelched, seemingly disintegrating beneath his foot, and he was falling.

This time he was ready for it, the grapple already in his hands. The rope went up, magnetizing to the still invisibly waiting car, hovering above. As if the whole building had been waiting for that single step, the roof fell away under him. Beams and bricks rained down on the floor below. It held for only seconds before it too crumbled.

After that the gloom and growing obscuring cloud, blocked any clear view. When the silence returned Robin set the grapple to slowly lower him into the pit.

The building had been four stories tall; The rubble had created a pile in the basement. Keeping in mind his experience in the Rainbow Mall Robin swung out to one side, coming down on the cracked concrete in a crouch. Robin stayed low as he adjusted his mask, switching over to night vision.

The room was actually smaller then he had expected. With two connecting passages in the south wall and a third in the east he had several options for a direction to take. He didn't have any idea what kind of clues to look for, or what kind of scratches would give away which passage to take so he turned to the nearest tunnel and started walking.

Ten feet down the passage Robin heard a low harsh cursing behind him. His feet were suddenly glued to the ground. He knew that voice. After what had been done to Terry, and Ian being tortured, Robin didn't think he would ever be able to forget the voice of Shriek.

The cursing continued, Shriek producing a running monologue that was immediately distorted by the underground space. That gave Robin a thought. If the sounds were that distorted by the time he heard them, then Shriek wasn't likely to be right behind him. He slowly turned just his head. If Shriek hadn't already seen him he didn't want to attract attention.

Shriek's white bug-suit stood out against the wreckage. He was turning his head, to take in the damage.

In a single moment Robin understood. Shriek had certainly heard the noise and come out of the tunnel in the south wall, the one Robin hadn't chosen. Shriek had come to find a wasteland of debris with a cause that was completely unknown. Since Shriek was convinced he had already captured Batman this situation had to be unexpected.

Robin grasped the opportunity that had been deposited into his hands. While Shriek had been drawn away from his captive Robin slipped behind him, and into the passage Shriek had emerged from. Now he just had to wonder how much time he would have before things went rocketing out of control.

* * *

Ian heaved, convulsing in his chair as his body tried to throw up for the sixth time. Ian had already emptied his stomach onto his shoes and was silently grateful that he hadn't had more then an energy bar since the beginning of his shift the previous night. Shriek had gotten creative with his torturing methods. Ian's vision wavered, his balance kept shifting like the world was trying to throw him off, and being seated didn't seem to help. Then there was the pulsing beat, a base note so low Ian couldn't really hear it. That didn't stop it from kicking him in the gut every other second. The base note was accompanied by a screech at just the right frequency to set up a discord cascading through the spectrum.

Shriek was taking his time. He would set up a rhythm, only to change it just when Ian was starting to adapt. He was effectively killing the man by inches. Eventually Ian's organs would collapse under the strain, liquifying while he was still alive.

Every so often Shriek would turn down the pulsing, only to replace it with the pain of bruises, broken bones and thin light cuts that did minimal damage while inflicting agony on his victim.

Ian knew this wasn't going to end with flowers and sunshine. He wasn't going to walk away from this and that was the simple bottom line. That being the case he didn't try to fight back. If he was lucky the end would come sooner rather then later and if he wasn't lucky then at least staying relaxed would prevent him from causing himself extra damage.

Shriek watched him. It was clear the mad man was enjoying himself, not just with sadistic glee at the pain but in a more calculating way as well. Shriek had been a scientist at one point, definitely in the mad category, but now it was showing through. He would slowly turn one of his dials and then watch as Ian convulsed or tried desperately to cover his ears even though his hands were tied.

The pain was incredible. Ian screamed again and felt it as his throat tore and cracked. Ian's voice was the first thing to give out. Shriek paused as he noted it. His head fell to one side and the man studied the ceiling. Ian could see him moving one hand in an easy gesture but couldn't put together any of the words he was speaking. The even tone and casual manner were completely at odds with Ian's current frame of existence. His brain couldn't process anything other then the different flavors of pain.

Shriek looked down and his expression changed. He was angry. That managed to get through to Ian. More danger, more pain on the way. Instincts screaming at him to get away, while the shreds of his rational mind tore themselves apart knowing that it was impossible. The slap across Ian's face was almost welcome. It rattled him enough for him to black out momentarily. Then he was pulled back to himself, forcefully revived and it started all over again.

When had the tears started? Ian could taste them as they slid over his split lip, the rising bruise on his cheek, the possibly broken nose. They stung, but that wasn't new, just a different flavor.

Shriek pulled back and Ian tried to prepare himself for another fresh new round of fun. He waited, but his torturer didn't start back in on him. More time passed with the thrumming base note set as a low background. It was a new kind of torture, the wait while Shriek came up with fresh toys. It probably would have worked better though if he wasn't so exhausted. Pain was tiring. Ian's body wanted to shut down, rest, start recovering. Not that that was going to happen. He wouldn't be given the chance. Still, the minutes passed and eventually Ian was able to blink his eyes into focus.

He was still sitting tied to the chair in the corner of Shriek's lair. The computers and other technical equipment still hummed, but Ian's captor was gone. Ian felt slightly insulted. What, did the man think he could just walk away and ignore him? Shriek was supposed to be in the middle of getting his revenge. Was Ian suddenly not good enough? A thought flickered through Ian's mind and he quickly kicked down the hope it conjured. There was no way Shriek would have a sudden revelation and decide he wasn't Batman. It didn't matter what the truth was. The man was crazy. Even if he did decide to believe the truth, Shriek would probably just kill Ian for his supposed deception.

The minutes stretched. Ian gave in and let himself gasp in air. Pulling at his bonds and trying to get them lose enough to wiggle free. He knew that it would only be more painful when Shriek started in on him again but he couldn't help it. Humans just weren't programed to give up, or he wasn't at least. Maybe he should have been, that would have been easier.

The sounds that echoed into the room from the passage were muted and distorted but the sound cannon that was Shriek's trademark was hard to mistake. Ian froze realizing that Shriek hadn't disappeared without reason. Something was happening. If Shriek was using his cannon then it might even be that someone was attacking. Moments passed and Ian listened to the silence stretch. Who was it? Who was out there other then his torturer?

Ian actively pushed away any thoughts of rescue as the silence lengthened. Instead he started working on the ropes again. He wasn't making much progress. The rough fibers had bloated with the moisture, becoming tighter as they absorbed the water, sweat and blood. Untying them would be a hopeless task in his current condition, and slipping out of them would be nearly impossible. Trying to cut them then became his only option.

It was hard, twisting enough to rub the ropes against the chair, the pipes, anything within range. Simply moving sent his head pounding and his various injuries throbbing. After less then a minute he had to stop, gasping for breath and sagging in the ropes as the world decided to once again slide out of focus.

He felt something. Something was moving, pulling at him. Ian jolted out of his momentary blackness, panicked at the thought of yet another danger. He was falling over the edge into hysteria when his eyes managed to focus on the figure that crouched by his side.

Robin had managed to remember his costume this time. The boy had a switchblade out, and hacking at the ropes. He looked so small there in the dark, and young. Too young for all this. He also had dandruff. Ian wouldn't have noticed except the top of the kid's head was less then a foot from Ian's face.

It was too much. The hysteria that had been threatening fell over Ian. He found himself sobbing or laughing, crying out in gasps that raked through his damaged throat. He couldn't think. He couldn't breath. Passing out would have been a blessing, but he couldn't even seem to manage that.

Robin looked up in a panic, desperately motioning for Ian to be quiet. The kid's head jerked back and forth between the man and the door. He was biting his lip even as his hands still fought to cut the ropes. Robin was getting desperate, fighting with the ropes. They both knew that Shriek was coming, could enter the room at any minute. Not good. Robin shouldn't be here. There was no way this untrained kid was going to get him out of something like this. Ian didn't even think Batman could get him out of this. It was over and now the kid would get pulled down with him. Ian was the one to see Shriek when he entered. He tried to call out, to let Robin run so at least one of them wouldn't die, but no sound came out. His throat was too raw and he couldn't get enough breath. Then the pain was back, splitting him in half and drilling into him. It was too much all at once.

Dark patches blotted out his vision. He knew what was happening and he couldn't face it. He just couldn't. He would break. Ian was gasping in short sharp breaths, hyperventilating. His eyes sprung open and he saw the last thing he wanted to see.

Robin jumped back away from the grabbing arm of Shriek. Robin grabbed at his belt and something flashed, spinning through the air in a glittering trail. Shriek didn't seem to care, bringing up an arm and flicking the weapon away. Shriek was back in his armor. Robin was a lot faster then the bulky man but he was slowing down even as Ian watched. The kid was getting tired. Shriek was being methodical. He was waiting for Robin to make a mistake.

As Ian watched he took an opening blasting his sound cannon at a range that would blow Robin apart. Robin dodged by inches, sliding under the blast by pure luck. Even Ian, as out of it as he was, could tell Robin didn't know how to fight.

Robin rolled to his feet. For the most part he was managing to stay behind Shriek. The man had to keep spinning around to keep Robing in his sights. Then a soft hissing sound began to leak through the auditory screen that the machines were still projecting. Ian blinked as the world seemed to grow hazy.

White smoke shot into the air a moment later engulfing the whole room in a matter of seconds. Ian started coughing. The smoke should have been dissipating, but it wasn't. How many smoke bombs had Robin used anyway? When had the kid even had time to set them up? Ian's eyes were watering as he gasped in the smoke filled air. Lights were dancing around him and he had no idea if they were the result of the fight or if he had finally started to hallucinate.

It was getting harder and harder for his battered body to suck in oxygen. The dancing lights and smoky shapes made sense only in an otherworldly, out of body way. Robin had tried to take out Shriek's senses, blind him with the smoke so he wouldn't know where to strike. The theory was solid but Robin was showing his inexperience again. Shriek was sound based. Ian had only witnessed one of his fights but even he knew that Shriek relied more on sound then sight.

Ian's thoughts were blurring together. The end he had predicted was finally reaching out to grab them all. The twin voices of Ian's rescuer and his torturer blended with the heavy thumping still coming from Shriek's machines. The smoke filled world became a wall of grey that was quickly fading to black. It was strange, feeling this peaceful, with so much pain and chaos all around, but maybe that was normal for someone who was dieing.

* * *

Hey all,

This chapter was hard to write. Wow, I say that often don't I. Well this time maybe more so then others. The reason it's been so long since my last update is that there was a death in my family so for a while I was really put off writing. Coming from a different angle this chapter was hard because, one: I really don't like torture, and two: Robin forced me to rewrite his section. The torture thing is a big deal to me. To me a quick death is preferable to torture even if there is a chance of rescue. I'm kind of a wimp when it comes to pain like that, so doing that to one of my characters... well let's just say it wasn't something I had planed. Shriek kind of pulled that one out without telling me.

But moving on.

I will try to update the next chapter a bit faster but I used up my whole buffer before the gap so it'll still probably be longer then i'd like.

This chapter hasn't been beta'd so apologies on that front and feel free to tell me about any errors you see.

Thank you to Onba, Kitsune Foxfire, V, Harm Marie, and Lacewing for reviewing the last chapter.

Please review, I love to hear your thoughts and every time I get one it reminds me to keep writing.


	32. Chapter 32

The line from the car went dead. Bruce was suddenly on his feet, hands slammed into the keys as he roared at the screen. "Matt. McGuinness. Robin!" The line was dead. A cold frustration was filling him, growing at every roadblock. He double and triple checked, rerouting the signal through every bypass he could think of until pain flared up behind his eyes and multiplied the pounding at the back of his skull.

It was the kind of pain that made spots swim before his eyes and killed any active thoughts. It took him minutes to bring everything back under control, and when he did he found himself exhausted. Without his memories he was handicapped, crippled. He was fed up with having his hands tied.

He knew how his memories had been taken now. It was time to get them back. The algorithm for the signal that would reverse the process would be hidden, but now... Now he knew where to look.

Robin may have been right that his actions were limited; the boy had cut off any assistance Bruce may have been able to provide. This, however, was something only he could do, and it was past time he got to work.

* * *

The radio feed from Ian had been patchy at best. Even when Barbra was getting a signal it was impossible to tell what was going on. There were no words, no conversation to follow. For a while there had been screams, and a rhythmic screeching that was hard to stand, even hearing it second hand through a bad connection. That was gone now, replaced by distant clamor and labored breathing.

Barbra had her eyes closed, and leaned back in her hospital bed. There was nothing she could do that wasn't already being done. That being the case, she had cut off her emotions and shut down the instinctive reactions she was dying to take. She was in observation mode, collecting data and acting as a witness.

She heard the stranger's arrival as a part of the background - the information was acknowledged, processed and stored along with everything else she heard. It was just another piece of data until a man's hand slowly came down to rest on one of her own. It wasn't Weaver, he would have spoken rather than touching her - the same went for the rest of her people. Someone else then- and the list of people that Weaver would have let into the room was an extremely short one.

Her sense of responsibility to an officer who she had allowed to be harmed wasn't easy to let go of, even temporarily. It seemed she wasn't going to get much of a choice in the matter. Barbra allowed the man to take the radio from her hands and set it down on the bedside table. As he turned back from the task he found her eyes open, studying him. His smile was soft and meant to be reassuring.

"Barbra? I don't know if you remember me. I'm Doctor Pieter Cross. How are you feeling?" He spoke softly but not as if she was dull. More as if he wanted to keep the conversation private.

Doctor Cross, the one who had been flown in from Metropolis. He had arrived earlier then she had expected. More importantly, as she studied him she found he wasn't what she had pictured.

First he was a young man, probably in his mid-thirties. To have that level of clearance at that age meant he was either very talented or knew a lot of the right people. His features weren't remarkable, but they were slightly handsome in a traditional way. His brown hair was short and well kept, while the suit and tie he wore instead of doctor's scrubs were cut in a style favored over forty years ago. His hands were long, fingered with the callous' and scars of a practicing surgeon. He was relaxed but his posture was perfect. A pair of dark glasses, the lenses tinted strangely red, blocked any view of his eyes. Even without seeing his eyes though, Barbra got the impression that this was a man with integrity sewn into his very core. He looked like a man out of time. As if he had been plucked out of her childhood unchanged in the past fifty years, or perhaps even further back. In that suit he looked more like a gentleman then a doctor. If he had been carrying a cane and hat the picture would have been complete.

Why then had he insinuated that they knew each other when she had never so much as heard his name before tonight?

Barbra kept her face neutral, still mostly focusing on the radio.

Doctor Cross waited for her response for a few minutes, then seemed to accept her silence as an answer in itself. He settled back pulling out a small metal case from an inside pocket. Flipping open the case he picked out a small pen light.

"Look this way please."

She turned her head, but kept her eyes unfocused around the area of his chest.

He started in on all the usual medical things- she let him, her mind still elsewhere. After several minutes the routine managed to lull her into a more relaxed state. It was something she hadn't consciously taken note of. Even here in the hospital she hadn't let herself relax. It had been a long time since she had been so close to the front lines; she had forgotten what it was like.

Her mind ran over that thought again. She hadn't relaxed before, but for some reason she had now. Why? That put her back on guard, focused on this new doctor.

He noticed, glancing up at her from where he was taking her pulse. "Something wrong?"

Suddenly Barbra didn't like the fact that she couldn't see his eyes. "Who are you?" Her voice was even. She allowed none of the tension she was feeling to leak through.

There was concern on his face. Either he was a total master of his emotions and expressions or he was genuinely concerned. When he spoke his voice was even and soft as if speaking to a frightened child.

"I'm Doctor Cross, remember? I'm here to help. How do you feel? Any headaches or nausea? Do you remember how you got here?"

Barbra waved a hand, brushing his questions away. "I feel fine."

He reached forward taking her hands in an effort to calm her. "Barbra please, just give me an hour to run some tests." She stiffened and whatever else he was going to say never made it past his lips. "What's wrong?"

Well he certainly was intuitive, or maybe he was just that good at empathizing with people. Barbra hadn't meant to react but when he had called her by her first name something in her gut had shivered. No one called her by her first name. Friends called her Babs, on the job she was the commissioner or just Gordon. Just about the only person who did call her Barbra was Bruce. That thought sent another shudder through her.

Dr. Cross leaned forward resting a hand on her forehead to get some idea of her temperature and checking her pulse again. His motions were sharper and more deliberate. His touch was familiar, to the point of intimacy. It was right, but wrong. She couldn't think. It didn't make any sense. A pressure was building behind her eyes, forcing red across her vision.

Barbra started gasping and distantly she heard Dr. Cross calling for a nurse and shouting medical techno babble. Old training took over, helping her control her breathing, and through her breathing the rest of her rebelling systems.

Barbra slid into a state of self-hypnosis, manually shutting down her body's panic response by focusing on the utterly mundane. The way her hair felt as it brushed against her ears and the back of her neck. The way the hospital gown settled slightly awkwardly on her shoulders. The way the old, warn cotton of the bedspread felt against her arms. The smell of disinfectant and cheap lemon cleaner circulated by stale air. The soft rhythmic beeping of the machines combined with the low thrum of the air conditioner. She used the observations to convince herself that everything was normal, average. Freaking out would be a pointless exercise.

An even pressure was applied to her right forearm. A cloud flowed from that point, causing her muscles to relax. Her eyes drifted to the strange doctor as he withdrew a needle from her arm. He noticed her eyes.

"I don't want to alarm you, or stress you out, but that wasn't a normal seizure. Are you feeling well enough to talk for a while?"

"If you're willing to give me a few answers." Her voice was lazy, drifting through the octave in an aimless fashion, but that didn't disguise her words as anything other than what they were, an ultimatum.

Dr. Cross nodded, but his expression was shifting towards one of confusion. "I'll tell you everything I can, but until I know more about your condition-"

Barbara shook her head, cutting him off. "Not that. How do you know me?"

His eyebrows rose, then came together in concentration. "You don't remember me?" Barbara's gaze was still mostly unfocused but she managed to roll her eyes just fine. "Ok, you don't remember me. Are there any other gaps in your memory?"

"Not that I can remember."

He began to nod then stopped. "Barbra, you can trust me. If you've noticed anything, I need to know.

"Really. I notice you didn't answer my question."

His chair squeaked softly as he leaned back, lacing his hands together and bringing his index fingers up to touch his lips. For a few long minutes the two of them sat watching each other. Then with an expression that was bordering on stern, Cross stood and turned away from her.

"Mr. Weaver was it? I need this room cleared. There are several tests I need to run and your men would be in the way."

Weaver stood tall and intimidating over the doctor. He looked like he wanted to kick the smaller man out of the building and possibly across the city while he was at it. He deliberately turned to Barbara waiting to hear the verdict.

Dr. Cross didn't wait for her to speak. "If you force me to claim doctor patient confidentiality rights I will have you removed from the premises, rather than relocating you to the room next door."

If Cross had said the same thing to Barbara she would have taken it as a challenge; but as she watched Weaver considered the words then stood down. He waved a hand to the others to clear out their equipment, all without turning his back to Cross. His expression was stoic as he turned to the commissioner.

"We'll be in the next room." The offer of help didn't need to be said. They both knew that Weaver would use the slightest provocation to come to her rescue, should she need it. It was comforting, his unwavering loyalty to the rules- she should have foreseen his reaction to Cross.

When the room was clear apart from Dr. Cross and Gordon the man turned, surprisingly not to the machines but to the window. He twisted at the blinds until they were as closed as they were going to get. The level of light in the room dropped into the twilight range.

"Strictly speaking, this is the first time I've met Barbara Gordon." Cross's voice was a low monotone as he crossed the room to the door. With a wave of his hand he blacked out the observation window. In the same movement his hand came down on the lock. The click may have been soft but Barbara didn't have any trouble hearing it.

"Until now, we have only met in a more official capacity." He turned his back to the door. From across the room he looked at her. She tried to find his eyes behind the red lenses; the longer she was in his presence the less she trusted herself to read him accurately.

With a single delicate motion he pulled his glasses away from his eyes, folding them and sliding them into his breast pocket. Barbara got her first look at his eyes and a bead of energy danced down her spine.

He was blind. His eyes were clouded over with cataracts and a number of old scars served to outline them. How? He had shown no signs of it. He didn't carry a cane or walk as if he couldn't see. When he had spoken to Weaver he had looked at him, had known not only where the man was but at what level his face was at. Searching him with her eyes revealed no device that would see for him. Was it fake? Was he somehow pretending to be blind, and if so why?

Then his hand came down on the light switch. Full dark descended on them. Barbara automatically reached for the lamp on her bedside table but he spoke before she could turn it on.

"Please don't. Light from within the visual spectrum can sometimes interfere with my tools and I'd prefer not to have to use one of my blackout bombs."

Barbara was the last person to be afraid of the dark. Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the nearly imperceptible level of light thrown into the room by the dials of the machinery she was hooked up to. Her other senses weren't as limited. She heard him clearly as he crossed the room to stand at the foot of her bed.

She was tempted to throw out a witty retort, but that feeling of familiarity was stronger than ever. She held herself back. He moved through the dark without hesitation. She crossed faking it off the list. Anyone who could see tended to hesitate when that sense was removed… unless the darkness somehow wasn't an issue for him.

She put the pieces together just as he turned on a black-light. The crescent moons on his vest stood out as if glowing while the black cape and cowl seemed to shed the light without reflecting anything. The red lensed glasses had been replaced by red tinted goggles.

"I'd like to examine you before I submit to an interrogation, but if you cooperate I don't see why I can't answer questions as we go." Dr. Mid-Night said, calmly retaking his seat.

She didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing surprise on her features. "Good, then you can start by giving me a real answer."

Again he paused and her eyes had adjusted enough to read surprise in his posture.

"How do I know you?" He paused and she nodded a confirmation. "Well." It was as if he didn't know how to properly answer the question, or as if he had thought the answer would be self-evident. "I suppose the first time we met in person was during the near-apocalypse of '09. You were doing rescue and I was treating field injuries but we did have a short conversation while I wrapped up your arm. Then later I did take a look at your legs after the paralysis. You were in costume both times, well as much of a costume as you had as Oracle but still." He had pulled out some kind of handheld device and was slowly moving it over her, about an inch away from the skin.

His casual attitude was growing annoying. He wasn't making any sense and she didn't have the faintest memories of anything he had mentioned. Then she ran through the logic and tried to remember where she had really been during the near-apocalypse.

It should have been easy. The near-apocalypse was one of those world-wide events that everyone who survived remembered. You knew exactly where you had been, and what you had been doing when everything had hopped in a hand basket for a hotter dimension. Except she was drawing a blank. So she started in on what she always did when she didn't have enough information; she started asking questions.

"Why don't I remember that?"

Dr. Mid-Night glanced up from his readings. "You appear to have amnesia. Which isn't as uncommon as it sounds in our circles. I'll have to map the extent of it to find out which memories are being blocked. From there it should be fairly obvious if this was some kind of attack or just bad luck."

Barbara could not believe what she was hearing. It was ridiculous, and yet, she had been a cop for long enough to see things a whole lot crazier than the story he was telling. Then there were all the little things that had seemed off in the last several days. One thing in particular was bothering her.

"You're implying I was hero."

"That's right. Lean forward, I need to do a brain scan."

She sat up, letting him attach several nodes to different parts of her head. His matter of fact attitude somehow didn't seem to fit the situation. She began running over the possibilities.

There were always stories about things like this, heroes forgetting who they were or getting hypnotized by some super-villain. Those in the know tended to try to keep that kind of thing quiet. It was possible she had been a hero, but if so, then who? She was certain she didn't have powers which cut the list down some, for others there was too much of an age difference. It was possible she had been someone like Star Girl or Artemis except both of their identities had come to light over the years. Then there were the years of paralysis to consider. That would have cut short any hero career. She meticulously went over every hero she knew of, but not a single one of them fit the facts.

"Who?"

"Batgirl, then Oracle later on." Dr. Mid-Night didn't look up from fiddling nobs and watching the readouts.

Barbara couldn't remember either of those names. It was obvious Batgirl would have been connected to the Batman character she had heard about the last few days but Oracle was a mystery. And why the change, just her legs or had was there a falling out?

A falling out like she had had with Bruce.

Thinking back she couldn't remember what that argument had been about. A bit more digging and that wasn't the only gap. She thought she could remember how they had met but why and how they had grown close was gone. It was the same for most of the time they had spent together. She could remember leaving for the manor only to have her mind go blank until the next morning. She could remember being his date a few times only to share a look half way through and suddenly nothing.

"- Barbara, Barbara, stop. Look at me!" Dr. Mid-Night forced her out of the memory with a sharp pinch to her arm.

She focused a glare on him. In reaction he glanced at his instruments, sat back and relaxed. It caught her off guard; no one just ignored it when she glared at them.

"Whatever you were thinking about was starting to trigger another attack." He explained as he stood and reached across to the lamp on her bedside table. The lampshade was a heavy one but it still cast enough light for the corona to sweep the shadows back to the corners.

The doctor moved back to his seat. "You need to be careful." He seemed to hesitate, choosing his words. "My preliminary observations aren't good."

Barbara sat back crossing her arms. The glare was replaced by a level stare. She was an old woman who had seen more than this man, hero or not. If he tried to sugar coat it she would smack him.

"Alright, straight to the point then. From what I've observed these episodes seem to be triggered by certain brainwave patterns. There are several patches in your brain with near zero activity. Just now there was a lot of activity around the edges of those sections. It put an enormous strain on your body's systems. You were exhibiting the same symptoms as earlier. Without further tests and analysis nothing is certain, but as a preliminary theory I believe the seizures are a symptom of the damage that caused the memory loss. When your mind tries to access those areas it triggers the seizures."

Barbara took that in with cold detachment.

Dr. Mid-Night laced his fingers together and waited for her judgment. It was several minutes before she spoke.

"Can you reverse it?"

"With enough time I believe I could find a cure but I'm still not sure about the full nature of your condition. Without knowing that and what caused it I can't give you a timeline or any guarantees. Time may not be in our favor."

Forcing herself to relax, Barbara closed her eyes. "I'm sure you have data to correlate. If you could send Sargent Weaver in here, I'd like a word with him before I get some rest."

Mid-Night didn't seem to believe her but he nodded as he rose.

When Weaver entered she waited only long enough for him to shut the door before issuing her command.

"Set up a secure line. I have a call to make."

* * *

Bruce might not have seen the pattern if he had had only two scans to study. As it was, with the three of them each reacting differently to the same poison as it were, the common denominator became the key. Cross referencing with the recovered code he had gleaned from the call that had hit Terry created a base for his reversal program.

It seemed that Spellbinder had been careful. The algorithm for the mind alteration was extremely complex. Shriek hadn't been so cautious. The delivery system had been a straight forward hammer blow. Obvious now that Bruce knew what he was looking at. That was actually what was causing Wayne the most concern. A surgical strike would have been harder to find but it also wouldn't have damaged so much of the surrounding area.

To make matters worse the damage seemed to be spreading.

From Terry's scans and a second scan of his own mind it seemed that the rates were different for each person; but even Terry, who seemed to be the least effected, had no more than a week before vital systems were compromised. Shriek may end up getting his revenge after all.

The call came halfway into the cross-examination of the occipital lobes. Bruce answered without looking up from his data stream.

"Yes?"

"Bruce, we need to talk."

It didn't take years of experience to tell that Barbara was furious, or that she wasn't going to take no for an answer. Damn it- he didn't have time for this.

"Really?" his voice was dry but otherwise unremarkable.

"Don't give me that Bruce, I'm serious."

He paused in his typing to look up at the screen holding the voice patterns of her call. There was no visual to indicate she was using a vid-phone. Probably best since his surroundings weren't exactly typical.

"Then how should I react? The last time I remember you calling you were trying to get me to attend Tim's Memorial which I seem to remember ended in blackmail." It was the truth. That was the last call he could remember, though the computer had records of several conversations that had taken place since.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, though it was contemplative rather than seething or any of the other responses he had been expecting. Her response, when it came, was low and uninflected.

"Can you remember how Tim died?"

He couldn't of course. The computer reported that Tim had died in costume during the meta-plague. Since Barbara was asking the question she obviously couldn't remember either, which he already knew, and that she had realized she there were things she didn't know. Somehow she had noticed the gaps, and managed to deduce that he was connected.

She had always been too clever by half, though in the past that had been an asset.

"Leave it."

"You can't can you?"

"Leave it, Barbara."

Tim was already a sensitive topic. She let it go. Not that she was going to drop the subject of memory loss. Bruce knew her better then to hope for that.

"It's not just that is it? You can't remember it, any of it." There was a pause and when she spoke next it was with growing realization. "You know something don't you. You know how this happened. Did they miss something? What do you remember?"

"Nothing, I remember nothing." That had been a poor choice of words on her part. Technically he was telling the truth. It did make sense. Without her share of the memories she would have no idea of the resources at his disposal, or that there were any others connected to all this. She was forced to assume that he had simply managed to figure things out faster then she had, and already come to a solution.

"Bruce, so help me, if you don't tell me what you know I will come up to that house, break down your overly ornate door and feed you to your own dog."

"I find that difficult to believe considering you are confined to a hospital bed." Again his voice had gone dry, this time with an overtone of sarcasm.

She changed tactics. "Please. I can't stand it. Being this helpless, not knowing what's happening around me, having my own mind betray me. Help me figure this out. If I could erase this problem on my own I wouldn't bother you, but you're the only lead I have."

Her words came to a slow stop. He knew how she felt. His mind had run through many of the same themes. Except, there was something in her words, hidden, an idea waiting to surface. What was it? What had she said? 'Helpless, not knowing... erase the problem... only lead-' No, wait. Erase the problem, like they had erased the memories. Would that work?

"Bruce?"

He didn't have time to walk Barbara through everything that had happened, so instead he shut her down. "I don't know what fantasy you're playing into but we are done. I've humored you before for the sake of the past but this is getting tiresome. Calling me without warning only to accuse me of blackmail, threaten me and tear open old pains. Well you're right. I don't remember Tim's death. I don't remember a lot of things these days. Alzheimer's tends to do that. So thank you very much for dragging that unpleasant fact into the light." He paused, took a breath and delivered the final stabbing blow. "No more. I'm not going to tiptoe around you for the sake of something that died a long time ago. Don't call me again." The words were delivered in a sheath of ice. As soon as they were out he cut the connection. It would have left her holding a dead line, possibly yelling into the speaker.

It wasn't a measure he had wanted to take, but these weren't times that anyone could truly prepare for. The idea she had handed him sparkled, just waiting to be put to the test. Maybe if this worked he would be able to wipe away the damage his words had caused. If it didn't work they were all dead in any case.

* * *

Hey all,

I know, I'm terrible. Just when Robin and Ian were in the middle of things I switch over to Bruce and Barbara. Well I hope it was still enjoyable.

For those of you who were expecting a chapter of Afterimage: it's still coming I'm just at a tricky spot there and this was being easier to write. There are only five or six chapters left of Partners so I can't help but race for the end.

This chapter was beta'd by Catchandelier.

Thank you to Bears Love Tourists, Harm Marie, lenorathetrekkie and Kitsune Foxfire for reviewing the last chapter.

Please review. I love hearing any thoughts at all.


	33. Chapter 33

Robin was learning that it hurt a lot more to be knocked out by someone who didn't know what they were doing. Shriek may have been top notch when it came to large scale destruction but in hand to hand he acted more like a raging bull then a prize-fighter. When Robin had been caught, he had been crushed. The only silver lining was that consciousness opened to him much sooner than it would have after a more precise blow, a mixed blessing as it was with all the aforementioned pain.

There seemed to be a lot of pain that came with being Robin.

Luckily, all the pain seemed to come from bruises and torn muscles rather than anything more serious. Unfortunately, that wasn't exactly going to be an asset he could use seeing as he was tied to Shriek's work table.

Robin craned his head around until a wire of pain shot from his neck down to the tip of his left hand. He hissed and eased back until the pain lessened, but he had seen enough.

Ian was tied to his chair off to Robin's right, slumped down in the half-cut ropes. He looked unconscious, though Robin supposed he could have been faking it. It wasn't like Robin had enough experience to tell. If he was faking it, it was probably a good move since Shriek was crouched just in front of him.

Robin tried to watch them from the corner of his eye. Shriek was muttering to himself, prodding at the remainder of Ian's bonds. After a minute or two, he stood and, with a single sharp motion, whirled toward Robin. It happened too suddenly for Robin to think about pretending to be unconscious. Instead he just blinked up at the white skull mask.

"You weren't part of the plan, but since you're here I'm sure I'll be able to fit you in." Shriek's voice was casual, polite even. He sounded like a waiter at some restaurant assuring a customer that they would find a table. "Now I've got to go find some more rope since you've taken up what I had on hand; and just to make sure you're not going to try another little stunt…"

Robin screamed as what felt like a sword was stabbed into the meat of his leg. By the time his vision cleared Shriek was disappearing into one of his tunnels. He let his head fall back, clenching his hands into fists in an effort to block the pain. It didn't help. He tried to lift his head to look at the wound but the ropes were too tight and too many. Robin fell back, panting at the effort. His head fell to one side and he found himself looking at Ian.

The man was awake, though he didn't look happy about it. He was looking at Robin with an expression that shifted between pity and regret.

Robin tried to smile, to tell him everything would be alright. He wasn't sure it worked.

Ian just slumped a little lower in his ropes. He spoke with his head down, talking to his chest. With the volume on top of his damaged throat, Robin had to work his way through the words to understand. It was simple enough once he worked it out.

"You shouldn't have come, now you'll die too."

Robin just kept smiling. "I think you're missing the part about being a hero. This is kind of my job."

"Wrong." The voice was all around them as if it was the shadows themselves. "It's not your job." Batman stepped from the shadows, the red emblem on his chest and his pale glowing eyes the only things giving away his location. "It's mine."

* * *

Terry hadn't had a plan. He hadn't even known he had the suit until he went looking for his phone. But when Max had learned that the subject of the last few hours was stuffed in the bottom of Terry's bag, one thing had ended up leading to another.

"Satisfied?"

They stood on the empty roof of a parking garage, Terry now outfitted in the suit while Max quietly giggled. Terry crossed his arms, turning to look out over the city. Having the suit on made a difference. It was hard to hold on to the light when he was physically wrapped in shadows.

Evening was falling on the city. Reds and purples lanced between the buildings, reflecting off the metal and glass. Shadows fell like banners over the streets. The sounds of the city were muted and overlaid by the twisting winds at this height, but the sirens and screams still managed to be heard.

Max was still talking, hypothesizing and generally acting like this was the single coolest thing ever. Well that last part at least he could agree with but now wasn't the time. He had work to do.

It was probably the brain damage talking but when the suit went on he wasn't Terry anymore and Batman didn't have any of the doubts Terry did. His city was crying and it was time he answered.

That was when the alarm went off.

Batman had been vaguely aware that his car had been on the move and that Wayne was active in the cave. His own tracer would stay inactive unless someone actively started looking for it or he chose to turn it on. When the car had been suddenly taken off line, the red alert had rippled through all active bat systems. The location pinged across his visor and Batman turned in that direction startling Max.

"A problem's come up. I have to go."

Max grabbed his shoulder before he could step away. "Terry, be careful; and give 'em hell."

The grin that claimed his features was dark but it felt right. "Always."

With a twist he let himself fall off the roof, spreading his wings and kicking the jets to life in a movement that was perfectly familiar and exhilaratingly new all at once.

Flying over the city, weaving around buildings and light-rail tubes, illuminated something. Before when he had gone out as Batman, he had had the car. The car was amazing but it had provided a barrier between him and the city. It was like a sim, or maybe some kind of vid-game. Even when he had fought Shriek, he hadn't exactly done much flying.

Flying like that took skill; and he was good at it.

The confidence that that single realization granted seemed to blossom in his chest. The uncertainty and fear were pushed aside. His emotions were still rulings his thoughts, but now he wasn't second guessing himself. The car's last location provided a focusing point and he raced forward at top speed.

The car was offline when he reached it but the backups had kicked in keeping it floating and invisible. There would probably be enough systems working to get it back to the cave at least, and knowing the old man the systems were probably self-repairing. He left it where it was for now. The roof of the building below and the trailing rope from the grapple pointed at the reason for the damage.

Funny, Batman seemed to remember Matt being told to stay in the cave.

Letting his jets fade, he spiraled down through the wake of the wreckage. He landed as a puff of dust without a source, his camouflage already engaged. Switching his visor to infrared, Batman identified a pair of fading heat trails.

It turned out he didn't need them. The distorted echo from the passage walls weren't enough to stop Batman from recognizing Shriek's sound cannon. Entering the dark he went to find his brother.

* * *

Robin looked up at his brother. His words had filled the room, but it was more than that. The person standing over him wasn't just Terry, this was Batman, darkness and rage personified within an iron will.

Robin suddenly had a much better understanding of why everyone was terrified of Batman. Except Robin. Robin joked around, made quips and came back for another round even when the smart thing would be to follow orders and run like hell. So even though Robin was looking at the most iconicly terrifying citizen of Gotham, he grinned.

"You're back! Nice timing. Do you think you could help he out, I think there's something in my leg."

Terry opened his mouth to make some snappy comment or threaten to kill him, but either way his expression changed when he glanced towards Robin's feet. It must have been bad. Robin couldn't move enough to look down himself and he was fairly sure he had gone into partial shock since the pain wasn't as bad as it should have been.

"I'm getting you out of here."

Robin nodded as if Batman's words were truly sage advice. "Good idea, I'll bring my friend."

Terry noticed Ian for the first time. The man was in terrible shape. The torture he had endured showed on his skin while his expression was lifeless in all senses apart from the literal one. Getting the man on his feet was out of the question, he was simply too far gone; but leaving him behind wasn't an option either.

Slaggit he could handle one injured party, but two was stretching it and that wasn't counting the super-villain who could come back at any time. He could probably get them to the car, but any further then that would be a risk. Even then he would have to take them one at a time leaving the other defenseless in the interval.

Batman turned back to the kid. A flick of his wrist produced a baterang that began cutting through the ropes. He didn't know what to do with the injured leg but Robin took it out of his hands when he was freed enough to sit up.

Robin winced when he saw the gaged piece of metal in his leg. The pain seemed to redouble now that he could actually acknowledge it. Moving around wasn't helping much either. He fumbled at his belt until he found the med kit he had stashed their earlier.

"I've got this." Robin said through gritted teeth.

Batman didn't look like he wanted to believe him.

Robin pushed his hands away and nodded towards Ian. "Help him. It's just a cut; I know how to wrap it."

They both knew it was true. Mary McGinnis had made sure both her boys knew emergency first aid. Still, Batman didn't want to turn away from his brother, even for a moment. Fear and rage were warring for his attention, and he couldn't be sure if the instinct to protect was overriding logical thought or if getting his brother out was really the best thing to do.

Robin pushed at him again and Batman took a gamble. He turned away from Robin and began slashing through the bonds holding the cop. It only took a matter of seconds but it still felt like far too long. Finally the man fell forward crying out in surprise and pain. Ian's eyes glazed over and Batman knew that he wasn't going to be any help. Better to just get him out of there.

With a last flickering look back at Robin, Batman picked the man up and made a desperate run for the car.

Robin tried to ignore the panic as Batman disappeared. He would be back. He was coming back. His hands slipped on the bandage and a stain of red spread across the white. It hurt, god it hurt, but Batman was coming back. He would save him like he had before and everything would be fun and games like it always had been. He yanked the bandage tight, tying it off as he repeated the mantra again and again.

The howl that bounced off the walls was filled with uncontrolled rage. They had just run out of time.

Shriek's white form advanced with deliberation.

Robin was already too frightened for any more to make a difference. Some part of him even noted that since Shriek wasn't exactly hurrying, stalling might be possible. All he needed was a little time, just enough for Batman to get back, for them to escape. There was still a way out of this mess alive.

Shriek grabbed him by the front of his costume and pulled him into the air. It probably would have been his neck if the claws of his suit could have managed it, small blessing.

"Where is he!? What have you done with him?" Shriek was howling clearly ready to pound all his frustrations out on Robin.

Robin just gasped, unsure if he even could talk at this point, let alone answer a question coherently. Shriek swung him around, shoving his face towards the chair where Ian had been bound.

"Where is Batman?!"

Robin laughed. He couldn't help it. It was too good a line to waste. "Behind you." Robin's words were soft. Batman probably hadn't actually heard him, but then Batman didn't need a cue in order to know when to punch someone's lights out.

The impact of Batman's first strike knocked Shriek stumbling. Robin went into the air, tucking his head and hoping he didn't land on anything important. Then two black arms were around him and instead of hitting concrete he was looking up at Batman's cowl. Batman set him on his feet, careful of his injured leg and stepped in front of him.

"Robin, get to the car. I'll be right behind you."

Robin spent a moment in indecision before turning and doing his best to hurry down the passage. Shriek pushed himself up. From behind his mask came a grunting laugh that had about as much mirth as a funeral.

"Have you decided to die for him, hold me off so the little bird can get away? Don't worry, I'll let him live. After all, you're the one I wanted."

"You're wrong. I just don't want him to see what happens next."

* * *

Hello all,

So, there it is. It's about time Terry showed up, we all knew it was going to happen. The way things have gone though it looks like we're going to get an extra chapter. I know i've been hinting that we're coming up to the end and while that's true I also feel i've been a bit misleading. Around chapter 28 I plotted out the remaining chapters. Back then I came up with a total of 37 chapters and an epilogue. There haven't been to many surprises since then, but things have been going a bit slower then I had thought. We'll see how it all factors out.

This chapter was beta'd by the amazing **Tidus Zanarkand.**

**A huge thank you to the reviewers of chapter 32, Jimmy candlestick, V, Kitsune Foxfire, Lenorathetrekkie, Mesmerizing Ducks and Harm Marie.**

**As always please review. I work faster with feedback.**

**:)**


	34. Chapter 34

Batman could read his opponent. Shriek was confident, cocky; Batman had seen that look before on plenty of street punks looking to prove themselves. The difference here was that Shriek knew what he was doing. Batman had the cracked ribs to prove it. Last time it had been Terry in the suit. He may have been prepared but he hadn't been willing. Shriek had made it a whole different game when he had hurt Matt.

Now it was personal. Batman had no hesitation about reaching into the dark and using every weapon he could find there. Unfortunately Shriek seemed equally motivated.

Shriek was on his feet before Batman had finished pushing Robin towards the exit. By the time batman finished speaking he was pacing forward to attack.

Batman let his tangled thoughts slip away as instinct and training took point. They came together eagerly, turning the clash into an offbeat dance. Shriek came in first using his bulk to his advantage as he charged. Batman stepped in to meet him. Shriek had the power in this equation. This wasn't the first time Batman had fought someone out of his weight class though. He knew how to handle himself.

When Shriek's arm came out Batman caught it with the back of his hand, sliding the blade of his hand in to catch at the elbow joint. It turned away Shriek's attack just enough for Batman to bring up his other hand. Stepping forward he put all his weight behind the strike, aiming at the weak neck joints in Shriek's armor.

When his punch was deflected Shriek turned, twisting as much as he could in that ridiculous suit. He swatted at Batman's arm like a bear, bringing his full weight down on Batman's upper arm and shoulder.

Batman tried to roll with the blow but he was caught in the circle of Shriek's arms. His own defenses collapsed before he was able to get out of the trap.

Shriek's own attack had knocked him off balance, and spinning to one side. He was so top heavy it took him precious moments to regain his footing and balance, by which point Batman had recovered as well.

A thought flickered past Batman and he trapped it before it could escape. It was something he had noticed in the earlier fight as well. The proportions of Shrieks suit were inconducive to hand to hand combat. Shriek's fighting style was all about blasting things and using his greater size and weight if an enemy got too close. His defense again relied purely on the armor. He was used to pounding things and blasting things until they were no longer a threat. His whole strategy was based around raw power with infighting as a last resort.

Batman was the other way around. Get in close and use technique and speed to out maneuver his opponents while striking at any weak spots he could manage. Long range was reserved for surprise attacks and when short range just wasn't possible. Shriek knew basically nothing about hand-to-hand combat; Batman didn't need his memories to figure out that much. With a suit that top heavy, he would topple over at even a modest attack.

Batman played to his strengths, stepping in before Shriek could figure out what was happening. This time he aimed for Shriek's head. As an old sense had hammered into him: where a person's head goes his body must follow. Shriek saw him coming and tried to strike out, but though still off balance, Batman was able to reach up sliding the arm aside while he drove his hand forward and up under shrieks chin pushing his head back.

If Batman had been at the dojo and practicing with someone who knew what they were doing, his partner would have either slipped to one side into a reversal or taken a back fall. Shriek either didn't have the knowledge or the inclination to practice proper ukemi. He flailed, the arm that Batman had just brushed aside rolling up and over as Shriek's other hand came in below, pushing out against Batman's breast bone. The blast that hit Batman was unlike anything he could remember. Shriek certainly hadn't used it in the last fight. The repulsive wave of sound picked him up like a wave pushing him back and slamming him into the corner between the ceiling and the far wall.

Something crunched. Batman had a fleeting thought that he hoped it wasn't him. He fell to the floor in a shower of moldy plaster and brick dust. Curling in on himself Batman crouched. The suit had done it's job but even so he hurt. Couldn't let that stop him. If he stayed down too long Shriek would be on him.

Batman felt almost giddy as the adrenalin hit his system. His muscles sang with electric power and suddenly it didn't seem to matter that he couldn't take a full breath. He wanted this. Oh sure he was doing it to put the monster who hurt his brother in the ground but with the suit sending power through his limbs the why didn't seem to matter. The act was enough in its self. He wanted to push himself to the limit of what was possible, into the realm of gods and monsters.

Batman was on his feet.

Shriek thrust forward and the blast came. He wasn't fast enough, close maybe, but not enough. Batman was thrown back again, making a crater in the wall. Climbing out of the wall he was hit a third time and a fourth. Each blast came before he could get away, trapping him before he could retaliate. That didn't stop him from trying.

After the fifth blast Batman struck. Shriek had fallen into a rhythm each blast coming a noticeable beat after the previous. Instead of trying to escape Batman flicked his wrists, bringing out a pair of batarangs. Shriek was tearing up the walls around him so it wasn't hard to find some momentary cover as he timed his attack. The red disks curved through the air and Shriek raised his defense at the last moment. Batman had been aiming for Shriek's head; instead the single blade that wasn't harmlessly deflected embedded it's self in Shriek's arm.

Cursing filled the air. Shriek was howling as he tore at the blade. Batman didn't waste the opportunity. By the time Shriek had town off his own glove in frustration Batman was on him. The kick was aimed at the side of his head.

By that point Batman was hurting too much to think about consequences or the amount of damage a person could take before death was a likelihood rather then just a possibility. He knew how to do damage to another human, and he did it.

The kick struck awkwardly, sliding off Shriek's helmet as his head twisted rather then snapping his neck outright. Batman didn't pause to see if his enemy would fall, but came in swinging as soon as his feet reconnected with the floor. He switched from Tae-kwon-do to boxing sending a quick double punch into Shriek's diaphragm.

Shriek gasped less at the pain then because the breath had been forced out of him. He was stepping back, trying to get out of range but Batman pressed forward, staying inside his reach. Batman's next set of punches were hasty and light enough that Shriek wouldn't have actually taken damage. It was a harrying tactic, meant to keep Shriek on the defensive while Batman searched for something that would be effective through his armor.

Shriek didn't give him the chance. Batman's arm came out in what might have turned into an uppercut if it had been allowed to get a few inches further. Shriek's attention focused on the hand, narrowing to that one threat. He grabbed and because of the now missing glove, the fingers of his left hand manage to clamp over his wrist. His grip was surprisingly strong.

Suddenly Batman was the one on the defensive as Shriek pulled at his arm. Batman tried to turn his wrist, to get some leverage, but Shriek lashed out like an angry drunk, and getting off the line of attack was the best he could do. Maybe Shriek isn't as ignorant of hand to hand as Batman had thought because as Batman dodged Shriek stepped and through accident or design Shriek's thumb is on the third knuckle of Batman's hand and twisting. Batman bends without thinking as endless repetitive training tells him that his sparing partner is going to throw him.

The kick was possibly the most unexpected thing he had ever encountered. Batman fell as his knees went out from under him, kept upright mostly by Shriek's still insistent hold. Batman tried to rally his back pushed straight, despite the fact that he was now on his knees. All things considered it wasn't a terrible place to be. Batman pushed himself back, going into the fall that Shriek had unintentionally led him towards. Shriek was forced back a step, losing his grip when Batman kicked his feet up, rolling over his shoulder, and coming up in a crouch. Batman pushed himself forward trying to close the distance his escape had put between them.

This time Shriek wasn't distracted. He lashed out with his still gloved hand and with Batman's charge he had the perfect target. Batman's strategy had worked too well; he had no room to properly dodge. Batman's arm came up in a futile attempt to block the claws. It partially worked. The strike should have hit the center of his mass, Batman managed to shove Shriek's arm up. Instead of cutting into his heart or lungs it hit his eyes.

No sight based creature would react favorably when it's eyes were nearly torn out and Batman was no exception advanced training or not. His reaction was more a convulsive jerk then anything years of training would provide. The dark shroud around him tore open as he landed flat on his back, air suddenly gone from his lungs.

Shriek stumbled at the sudden lack of resistance and nearly fell over Batman.

Batman couldn't really tell what happened. The fear filled him up to drown him without the dark to push it back. He couldn't think rationally to push it back with logic. Batman pulled up his legs until he could feel the suit protesting. His hands came up, frantically feeling out the damage to the mask while he tried to protect his head.

Shriek laughed, mocking. That endless bace beat still thumped in the background and the laughter mingled with it until Batman couldn't tell exactly where it was coming from.

Batman hurt, god he hurt. The cracked ribs had been compounded by the walls, until now he tasted blood every time he tried to breathe. Matt had to have gotten away by that point right? He had done the job, saved the day. Ok maybe not that much, maybe Matt wasn't even really in one place what with his leg and all, but he had gotten away, and that would be the end of it. Even the fear wasn't overwhelming any more, not with the lack of oxygen to strangle it.

That was apparently exactly what Batman needed. As the fear faded his mind was left blank and empty of clouding emotions. His exhausted mind had found that place where he could think clearly despite being ready to pass out.

Shriek didn't give him any time to use it.

The kick connected with Batman's side and he convulsed, gasping. He could tell the second kick was coming but couldn't react fast enough. When Shriek's heel came down on his collar bone he gasped in pain, his lungs finally opening. Air truly was a wonderful thing. The third kick was aimed at the center of his chest but this time he managed to react.

Batman had only a vague idea where Shriek was standing but he wasn't going for accuracy at the moment. As soon as he sensed Shriek's attack he kicked up with both feet, the jet's coming on in an unseen explosion.

Batman could only imagine what happened next since the sounds he herd were contradictory and his vision was full of static. It sounded as if Shriek was pushed back hard enough that he hit the ceiling. Whether that was the case or whether all the damage done to the room had just picked that moment to come down on their heads he didn't know.

He couldn't be sure what he was hearing at first, with the random echos and the bace note still pumping distortions through the air, so it wasn't until the first chunk of plaster old wood and copper piping slammed into the ground to his side that he truly got the gist of what was happening.

Shriek was cursing and coughing, punctuating his expletives with blasts from his cannon. Batman considered pointing out that the cannon would probably do more harm then good at this point but decided against it. Who was he to argue if the building had decided to come down.

The next chunk hit the concrete floor, ringing out like old bells. It was time to get out of there. Fight or no fight Batman wasn't going to let a building come down on him, no matter how injured he was. Desperation and determination got together to force him to his feet. The suit seemed to be doing more work then his legs at that point but that was fine by him so long as he got out of there.

In a half bent crouch he tried to orient himself. Which way had he come in? Where was the passage back? And come to that, with the building coming down would the tunnel even still be open?

Slag it. Why did his vision have to be cut off now? He tried to move, he had no idea where the next chunk would fall, there was too much noise to use that as any proper gage. The sound cannon was active again, it's ringing cut through the cacophony. It obviously wasn't aimed at him this time, and for good reason, Shriek was just as trapped as he was.

That was it. That was his way out. Shriek wasn't handicapped and crazy or not he wouldn't sacrifice his own life to kill Batman. Shriek would fight his way out, or blast his way out if the sound of that cannon was anything to go by, and Batman would follow him.

He started moving almost as soon as he had come up with the plan. Keeping his head down, Batman moved forward. He couldn't even try to dodge, just running toward the epicenter of the noise.

The building collapsed, folding in on it's self. Old wood fell apart while rust gave way and clouds of mold and plaster escaped into the air.

Shriek's final blast had been straight up and Batman took that as his cue. With his jets on full he kept his body rigid his arms as a shield above him, and blasted up through the structure. For a stretch of time that was about a thousand times longer then it should have been he was surrounded, hammered on all sides and pushed down by the weight of the whole city. The barrier broke around him, and in a rush he was up in the evening sky.

The cool air cut into him, fighting him and he drank it in like a tonic. Beneath him the building sank into a pit. The silence of a city sank into the space around him, a relief after the uproar. Batman's heart beat six times before sound once again erupted from below.

Shriek bellowed from the center of the crater. His cry sent out a shock wave that tossed the debris away in all directions. By the time he was done there was a twenty foot circle around him where the dust played over cracked concrete.

"Batman!"

It was a surprise when the words that finally came, didn't come from below, and certainly not from the mad throat of his opponent. Batman turned in the air. Trying to maintain a hover was harder then he remembered.

"Batman, here."

That was Matt. Relief, he hadn't had time to fear for his brothers safety, but hearing him safe was still a weight lifted. Only, Batman had rocketed into the sky, so why was he hearing Matt off to his left rather than beneath him? Ok this not being able to see thing was really starting to be a pain.

Matt let out a small cry as Batman continued turning. "Slag, your eyes. We're over here, are you ok?"

The car, he must have managed to get up to the car before the building went down, but that meant that he was still in the line of fire.

"Get out of here."

"You need help."

"I need you to get out of this alive."

Batman thought the sonic blast that came up from the crater illustrated his point rather well even if it did nearly hit him.

"You're a sitting duck. If all your visor settings are out, you need someone to be your eyes."

Visor settings? That's right he did have different visor settings didn't he, like that night vision setting he had used back in the warehouse. Looking down and still listening for him angry opponent, Batman felt for the switch at his temple. Static, a bunch of horizontal lines, more static, a bunch of green, dull red shapes, well it was better than nothing. Batman swung his head back up to where he thought the car was.

The vehicle was a brighter red then the background air, with a brighter core that reached out to a hard outline. The hatch appeared to be open with Matt leaning out of the front seat while the cop was unconscious in the back. Matt appeared as a brighter shape, dulling at the extremities; clothing blocked some of the light while his features stood out brightly. Batman got it then, heat, he was seeing heat signatures. Fine, he could work with that.

In a thought he was alongside the car, forcing his brother back into the seat and the slight protection it provided. "Listen twip, if you think this is over because the building came down you are very wrong. If you stay, you will get caught in the crossfire." he let his voice soften. "Besides he needs a hospital." Batman nodded at the cop.

It was that last that seemed to decide the matter. Matt slumped back into the seat, looking at the console. "The autopilot's shot."

"Yeah, we're going to have a talk about that when this is over."

"I've never flown a car before."

Batman leaned in, pointing at different components. "Steering, altitude, accelerator, brake. Just like a vid-game. I need you to do this Matt."

"Robin." the correction came automatically, and with it a determination in Robin's voice.

Batman nodded. "Go, and try not to blow up my car this time." Batman couldn't be sure with the visor set to heat vision but it looked like the smile that was sent back wasn't as confident as it was pretending to be.

The car hatch slid closed as another sonic blast erupted skyward. Jerking slightly, the car slid forward. In a moment the camouflage and the heat vision combined to make the vehicle vanish. At least that was still working, small miracles. Taking that as his cue Batman turned the dial on his belt, eliminating his profile from the skyline.

Batman let the dark fold over him again, only this time it didn't seem like such a terrible thing. Yes it was dark but it was also focus and a drive that let him push beyond the pain and, yes, fear. This needed to end and he was the one to do it.

On the ground Shriek was creating a second dust cloud by vaporizing any bit of debris that he deemed unworthy. Batman could have left, following Robin, but that would have left Shriek to rampage, which probably wasn't a good idea. Plus Batman wanted to take him down. He hadn't forgotten about Robin's leg.

Batman had his second wind and room to maneuver, all that was left was the finishing blow. There was only one problem, Shriek was as invisible as he was. The dust cloud shouldn't have been a problem to his heat vision but no brighter shapes identified themselves as humanoids. Frag, he was going to have to do this the hard way.

The move to bring his wings out was smooth and fast, like the hundred thousand other times he had done it, remembered or not. The jets cut with the same efficiency, and Batman sank into the murk.

It figured that as soon as he could see again Shriek would find a way to cancel that out. With all the wreckage in the air his altered vision was having trouble picking up anything more than a few feet away. The ground came up sooner than he had expected and his landing was less then graceful. A clatter of mettle and stone clued him in to the fact that he was standing on a pile of rubble. Then he realized what else the sound meant. Shriek had stopped his rampage and let silence enter the crater, and now he knew exactly where Batman was.

Batman assumed the worst because he's pretty sure it'll happen whether he assumes so or not. That being the case, he wasn't at all surprised when he heard a weapon charging somewhere directly behind him. It didn't sound like Shriek's cannon though, which was surprising, maybe it was out of power?

Shriek fired without warning or banter, by that point they were both in a more practical mindset, no matter how fun it was to taunt the enemy. Batman went down purely because Shriek would probably expect him to go up. It took barely a shift of weight and the rubble in the pile was sliding out from under him, letting him slide down father into the haze.

Shriek snarled in frustration and even as Batman fell the sound of the rocks around him ended. Shriek had hit the mute button on the whole world. Not fair. Batman got to the bottom of his pile, only realizing it because of the jolt sent up his legs.

A shiver crept up his spine and really there's something wrong with this picture, except he can't spare the brain power to figure it out what with the pain and the fight and the 'I still can't really see even though I can' thing. Seriously, he should be the one hiding waiting to jump out and kick ass not the guy who had all the powers of a boom box.

For some reason that was the final touch, the last straw that managed to tip the scales into the red. Shriek thought his sight was gone and with the unnatural silence his hearing was a non-factor.

Batman didn't try to find Shriek. He just stood, unmoving letting the red in his vision color his thoughts as he watched the cluttered air slowly settle. Bait set, trap loaded. When the dust created a storm in his vision like the bow wave of a ship he centered himself letting the movement close in on him.

This time it was Shriek's own fault for what happened. With the sound dampened, Shriek's cannons were just very expensive clubs.

Batman couldn't see him, not really, but finding the only thing moving in this pitch wasn't hard when it was coming straight at you. It only took a shift of his hips to put Shriek's attack off target. The single still gloved hand Shriek had, managed to cut across his chest and shoulder, making Batman curse. He wasn't seeing Shriek, not really. Only the single brightly glowing hand that had been stripped of its covering was glowing to his vision. The rest of Batman's opponent was an outline marked by the slightly warmer air.

Batman stepped up, throwing forward his own punch. He felt it connect with the armor but didn't feel the solid impact that would have meant real damage. Retaliation came in the form of a punch straight up into his damaged ribs. His vision went from red to white but Batman couldn't let himself stop moving. His next blow connected and a rush of hot satisfaction ran through him. Batman struck again, the blow not landing as solidly as before but again not missing its target.

Shriek grabbed at his shoulder, aiming a blow at Batman's head. Batman ignored the coming strike instead taking the elbow of the hand on his shoulder and rolling it over. Shriek cried out is surprise and pain, doubling over lest his arm be ripped from its socket. More satisfaction, and a dark red joy that seemed to match his augmented vision. Shriek collapsed his arm and lashed out at Batman's legs, shoving his weight towards him.

Batman was forced back a step, but managed to hold onto Shrieks arm. In a vicious fury Batman kicked out, connecting with the joint of Shriek's shoulder. There was a wet kind of crunch and bright red seeped out of the empty space where Batman knew Shriek to be. It fell to the cracked ground in large bright splashes that faded slowly upon contact.

Shriek was beaten, done, but he wasn't submitting, giving in like he should have. He tried to rake at Batman who took the attack with scorn, letting the armor on his legs absorb the weakening attacks. After a moment he let Shriek know his place, delivering a kick to Shriek's gut while still holding his arm in a vice.

Suddenly the sound was back. Distant cars and rubble still settling with an electric circuit sparking somewhere in the background, while Shriek cursed. A black satisfaction was quietly corrupting Batman's blood as he watched Shriek kneel on the ground before his feet.

Batman was unprepared when Shriek twisted towards him and aimed the palm of his hand up at his face; the hand that still had a sonic cannon embedded in it.

It was a bad angle or it would have torn him apart. As it was it threw him back, wrenching Shriek's arm from his grip and sending a new wave of pain through him. The front of the suit was torn apart and Batman felt a wet heat in his ears, trickling down his neck. Had the attack come earlier in the fight Batman might have made a different choice, but with no room for anything other than pain or rage in his mind, there was no way he was going to let the pain win.

A snarl built up in Batman's chest and he was on Shriek. They slammed into the ground and Batman silently delighted in seeing Shriek's helmeted head bounce off the concrete. Shriek tried to lift his gloved hand, and even though he seemed to be having trouble Batman moved forward on a preemptive strike. His fist came down center on Shriek's breast bone.

When Shriek moved Batman hit him again, and again, alternating his target between chest, gut and head. Batman pounded into Shriek, his screams unheard by his own ears. He drove his fists into his enemy, and after the first few he stopped caring if Shriek was trying to hit him back. He was angry and frightened and stressed out from endless days of having no control. He was sick and tired of it, worn out, and this was the one thing he could do to take that back. Shriek was everything he hated about the last few weeks, tangled up with pain and the threat of more of the same. He was the enemy who tore into his family and invaded his home, who reached into him and shattered who he was, and Batman hated him. He hated him with a singularity of mind that would have been impossible if he wasn't so close to exhaustion. Batman hated him and drove his fists down again and again and again.

Batman didn't stop until his fist slipped off Shriek's now bloody shoulder and hit the concrete. A jolt went up his arm, straight to his shoulder and Batman gasped. His eyes were wide as he finally saw the figure he was kneeling on.

Shriek wasn't moving. Batman had cracked the white armor in more than one place. The helmet looked lopsided, no longer protecting what was inside it so much as trapping it in a crunching vice. One large crack had formed the base of a spiderweb crack across Shriek's breastplate. The one hand without a glove was bleeding from half a dozen superficial cuts and even with his augmented vision Batman could tell it was bruising, possibly broken. His other hand lay limp in the dust, the shoulder not so much dislocated as torn apart. Dark blood oozed from the cracks and darkened the black under-armor at Shriek's neck and waist.

Batman looked down at his work. Shriek wasn't breathing. He wasn't moving, he wasn't even breathing. Batman was on his feet and backing away, trying to keep the fear down for a very different reason now. His own breathing was fast and shallow. Dark may have been crowding into his vision but he honestly couldn't tell with the visor the way it was.

"Terry."

Oh god no. He couldn't do this he was just Terry and he had killed him, god he had killed Shriek. There was a man under that armor and he had killed him. He was dead and there was red on Terry's hands. He was looking at his hands and they were red.

"Terry."

No, oh god. He was going to throw up; throw up or pass out, and oh god this wasn't real, this couldn't be real. There was red on his hands, and Shriek was still there at his feet like some kind of gruesome offering. Red, Red everywhere, and he had done it. It was his fault. Terry's fault. He had done it. He was dead and he had done it, and red, frag it all to god.

"McGinnis if you don't answer me I am going to send a jolt through your suit."

"I killed him."

"McGinnis."

"He's dead. He tortured that cop and then he stabbed Matt, and I killed him for it."

"Terry."

"He's dead." Terry waited for the voice to contradict him or condemn him. His mind seemed to have stumbled to a stop. Something in his chest was stopping him from breathing.

"We'll deal with that." There was a pause and the voice that was somehow Wayne and more then Wayne latched onto him and made him start breathing again. "Right now I need you to focus. Just follow my directions, can you do that?"

Terry didn't answer at first just rocking slightly, eyes still on the still form at his feet and the red on his hands.

"McGinnis!" that tone left no room for argument or creative interpretation.

Terry's head snapped up, his back going straight, and though he wouldn't admit it, couldn't even process it, just looking away helped a fraction. "Yes." his voice was scratchy and sounded wrong, but it was there.

Wayne humfed. "Alright McGinnis, you are going to listen carefully and for once do exactly as I say. The police were alerted when the building came down so you have maybe three minutes left before they arrive. Shriek had a computer. I need that data. Take the whole hard drive if you have to. I have a car on its way to your location. Get the hard drive and get in the car, and for god's sake don't pass out until you do. Do you hear me McGinnis, that's an order."

"But," Terry wasn't protesting. At that point he didn't know if he could think enough to protest.

"I'll handle it. Hard drive, car, Now McGinnis. Move."

Terry moved. It was a stumble but it was movement.

* * *

Hey all,

I have no good excuse for this being late. I had the whole first it of the chapter planned out but then it just go harder and harder to actually write it. Meh.

Thank you to MirokuTK who beta'd this chapter and the last. They've been awesome.

Also thank you to Desasaphira, lenorathetrekkie, Harm Marie, V, Mesmerizing Ducks, Jimmy Candlestick, and Kitsune Foxfire for reviewing.


	35. Chapter 35

Batman ordered Robin gone. Robin had considered disobeying but not seriously. This whole thing was getting a bit over his head. Reading files and hearing the stories were one thing but living it had swept Robin up and turned him around like nothing he had been able to comprehend. Having someone give him orders was almost something of a comfort at that point. Besides Ian did need a hospital and disobeying at that point would have just been contrary.

First rule of Robin: follow Batman's orders, or at least be smart about when you decide not to.

Robin tried to avoid traffic. Mostly he accomplished this by flying above the normal lanes and pulling crazy stunts that normal cars just couldn't handle. Half, hell most, of it wasn't intentional, but there it was, and he did manage to get to the hospital without doing more then scratch the paint.

The landing was another matter. Robin had been to this hospital before. He knew the layout better then most since his mom worked there. The six heli-pads the hospital sported weren't on his usual rounds though. They were scattered around the complex, most likely so that a patient that had been air lifted in didn't have as far to go once they were on the ground, but from the air Robin couldn't really guess which one was connected to which department.

He made his decision based on the fact that one of the platforms was apparently being guarded, and he was already on his way to crashing into it in any case. Landing was a lot harder then it looked. The fact that he was forced to maneuver the peddles with only one foot didn't help. It felt like the bandage he had hastily tied around his right leg was either slipping or had bled through, since he could feel the trickle of blood down his ankle and into his shoe.

The sudden jarring and short screech as the car came down and was forced to a stop, managed to knock most of the coherent thoughts from his head. He couldn't remember if the camouflage was still on or even still working, but the hatch opened easily enough.

The guard on the roof turned out to be a full officer, not just part of hospital security, which made sense since Gordon was somewhere in the building. He did seem a bit surprised when the Batmobeal crashed into the roof though, so maybe he was new.

"I've got an officer in need of medical." Robin's voice was steady but not as loud or strong as he would have liked it. He couldn't even properly stand up in the cockpit.

The officer on guard knew enough of his job to nod and radio for assistance. When Robin heard the confirmation he slumped in the front seat, only moving enough to see Ian, tucked into the space behind him. The man looked like hell, but his chest was still raising and falling in a more or less regular rhythm.

Robin let his eyes close, just for a moment, just to clear his head.

The hand brushing his arm made him jump, curling into the corner of the seat. He must have looked like a terrified cat, backed into a corner and ready to bite because the hand was slowly withdrawn. Robin followed it with his eyes back to the person it was attached to.

The man was in costume which was surprising, and not one commonly recognizable. The stranger obviously wouldn't have been from Gotham but Robin didn't recognize him from any of the League press photos or Titan interviews. Still Robin could have sworn he knew that black cowl and red vest from somewhere. He picked out the crescent moon emblem in various places but still couldn't find a name to go with the persona. Only then did Robin notice the others, officers and paramedics, who were standing back, glancing between him and Ian. Robin glanced back at the man. Really that was all it took to see he was slipping. When he turned back to the costumed figure the fight had slipped out of his limbs.

The hero waved the others forward when he saw Robin wasn't going to attack anyone.

The man leaned forward again offering his hand. Robin looked at it but didn't take it yet, still weary.

"It's alright, my name is Doctor Mid-night. I was called it to help the commissioner. When she was told about your little landing here I thought it best to come myself and see what I could do since I've already done what I can for her."

Robin raked through his mental records of everything he had gleaned out of the bat computer and various articles he had read. Yes he did know of a doctor Mid-Night he wasn't someone who was seen much on the front lines but he was the only, or nearly only, surgeon to the superhero community. He had a longstanding bond of trust with the Justice Society of America which was his primary contact for anything big but he would and had treated everyone from Batman on down when things got dicy. He was also the premier authority on meta-human science and was known for assisting even STAR labs. Robin must have read an article on him somewhere. or even heard his mom talking, it wasn't out of the question. Having him here also made sense since Barbara Gordon was a former member of the bat family as well as the commissioner. Robin wondered who had called him in.

"Right," Robin finally answered. "I'm Robin."

Doctor midnight nodded, "Yes I am familiar with the persona." He seemed to be looking at the symbol on Robin's chest and again Robin had to think about the dynamic he had been put in. People knew who Robin was and he had certainly used that to his advantage so far, but it also had a lot of other things riding on it. He hadn't considered how the rest of the superhero community was going to take the announcement that he had taken the mantle. When he had stolen the suit he had barely considered Batman's response, his brother not Bruce, Bruce Wayne was always someone to consider and really anyone who didn't was worse off by far. Still, the other heroes would find out sooner rather then later. Best to try and seem like he knew what he was doing right from the start. Robin was expected to be good at this, hell, Robin was expected to be good at everything.

Robin considered: he had already acted like he was going to kill the doctor and there was at least one Robin who had threatened to kill people fairly often so he seemed off to a good start as far at the legacy was concerned. He leaned forward and nodded at the doctor in a silent apology

"Right, sorry, he needs help." Robin nodded back at Ian. "Shriek went over him pretty bad and I only got there at the end. I'm fairly certain there's some internal bleeding and that's probably not the worst of it."

The officers had hurried forward. The young one Robin had almost crashed into was nearly gaping but at his words they moved to get Ian out of the back. The man's breath immediately caught and a cry was torn from him.

Frag, hadn't they heard him just say that he was in bad shape? Robin boosted himself up over the side of the car already opening his mouth to tell them exactly what he thought about that.

Then he landed. On his bad leg.

Robin crumpled, his eyes going white as the ground was suddenly a lot closer then it had been. The pain came as a second wave, making it impossible to do anything but try to fight it back. He wanted to stand up. He was stronger then this, he had to be he was Robin, but he couldn't.

Somewhere above him Doctor Mid-Night was giving orders. Robin couldn't understand all of it, every third word seemed to get lost. Robin saw that someone had been smart enough to bring a stretcher. Good that meant that Ian would be ok, or at least Robin had done his job and now it was up to the doctors.

He wondered what he should do now. Get back to the cave probably, except he wasn't sure he wanted to try driving again so soon. His leg still hurt.

"Robin, stay with me. Damn, I need a second bed prepared, and a unit of AB positive! Robin, you've lost a lot of blood, you need a transfusion. Stay with me."

Robin tried to nod but he wasn't sure that the effect got across because someone was picking him up. They were good, better then the rookies, they didn't his his leg, just held him close and tried not to jostle him as they started off at a fast walk.

* * *

Barbara watched as the call came in and officers started moving in a controlled panic outside her door. She waited, fully expecting someone to come in and inform her of the change in situation. When no one came in she got pissed.

Doctor Mid-Night had left to talk to Weaver, so she was currently alone in the comparatively large room. She crossed her arms and seriously considered getting up and going to find out for herself despite doctors orders. Except she didn't know where they had put her cloths. She knew she could look plenty intimidating in a hospital gown but that would start all kinds of stories in the younger ranks. Most of the younger officers already thought she was a dragon, better not to give them any more ideas.

Doctor Mid-Night luckily didn't take long to return. She was about to start barking out questions when she saw what he was pulling behind him. The gurney was just one of a few hundred used in the hospital, it was the boy on it that caught her eye.

Robin, she knew by now that was what he called himself. His costume stood out in sharp contrast to his pale skin and the IV attached to his arm didn't seem to be a good sign.

"What the hell is going on?" Her voice was fairly soft considering the harshness of her words.

The doctor answered without turning away from his new patient. "Robin just brought in your missing officer. Your man was worked over fairly throughly, luckily though the injuries appear fairly straightforward. He's being prepped for surgery now. Robin here managed to acquire a stab wound in his leg. It nicked an artery and he's lost a lot of blood." as he spoke his hands were moving, preparing needle and thread, then carefully closing the wound. At last the doctor looked up at Barbara. "Only four of your officers and the two of us know Robin is here so far. I think it's safer it stay that way."

That made her change gears. "You think he'll, be a target?"

"Injured Heroes are always a target." Doctor Mid-Night finished with Robin's leg and began to pull off his gloves. "I would appreciate it if you looked after him until I can find Batman."

"Excuse me?" Barbara made the words into something approaching a sneer.

Mid-Night didn't react to her tone, he just tilted his head slightly as he looked at her. "It must be the memory loss. I'm sorry Barbara, but if you could remember you would understand. If Robin is injured then it's a likelihood that Batman couldn't prevent it only because he is even worse off." he started for the door.

"And My officer?" It was a snarl as much as a question.

"Is in a hospital full of doctors who are eager to impress." He stopped at her door and looked back for a brief moment. Then closed it without any further comment.

"Damn you." Barbara murmured under her breath, but there wasn't any real venom in it.

* * *

Bruce had everything set up by the time his car returned with Terry. It probably said something that the process was almost entirely automated. Getting Terry from the car onto the gurney was the hardest part, after that his systems took over. The boy had been unconscious before Wayne opened the door and waking him would have been crueler then any single thing that had happened that evening.

The boy was drawn into the medical area and scanned down to the cellular level. The results weren't surprising but that didn't make it any easier to face.

It was bad.

The suit had managed to mitigate some of the damage, mostly by spreading out the impact area. Instead of debilitating bleeding wounds Terry was left with bruising across most of his body a set of nicely broken and cracked ribs, and internal organs that looked like they had all been slightly squished. The boy certainly had a concussion, which couldn't be good considering his already damaged mind. There were lacerations where Shriek had managed to get through the armor on his chest and down one arm, luckily none of them deep. The final touch were how his eardrums had been popped, though popped didn't seem a harsh enough word to describe the damage. Before the scans had finished Terry had blood dripping from his nostrils as well as his ears and his breath came ragged and red.

Terry should have been in a hospital. The internal bleeding alone dictated a round of surgeries, and the time it would take to heal properly could be counted in months rather then weeks.

Physically the boy was exhausted. Not just tired, but the bone deep weariness that only days of sleep could fix. It made him more susceptible to infection, and made recovery of any kind tricky even without complication. With the extra damage and the was his ribs were threatening to puncture a lung, there would be no easy fix.

The real problem was that he should have known what to do in this situation. He would have a plan for it, such an obvious outcome would probably have several plans. Right now, he didn't know any of them though, and he just didn't have the time to look. He had already spent hours going over his files and more then a few plans had been in evidence, but not this one. Maybe it was just too obvious, something he used or went over so often he had never perceived a need to write it down. Foolish, so foolish. It was said that we only see our faults when we crash into them. Well, he certainly had done that.

There was only one possibility that presented it's self. Terry's life was in danger but he was dieing by inches. Now that he was hooked up to the cave's systems he wasn't going to parish in the next hour or few. If Bruce could find the encryption key to the signal that had blocked out their memories he could reverse the process. Then with his own memories he could help Terry and terry would have one less thing threatening his life.

Terry had managed to recover the hard drive. He retrieved it from the car and set to work with a will that could not be matched.

Computer work, especially computer forensics was not flashy work. The immaterial data had to not just be recovered, but preserver in it's original form without changes so that future tests could be run. Then even if you managed to preserve everything correctly you still had to sift through an enormous amount of data, possibly encrypted, possibly damaged, possibly referencing deleted files.

People made a lot of commotion about cop shows these days but Bruce had never seen what the point was. He had studied every aspect of forensics and evidence suggested that he had put that knowledge to good use. Most of the time detective work wasn't full of eureka moments and finding the one little clue the perp had left behind. More often it was like one of those puzzles with incredibly tiny pieces, the completely blank ones; and even then you never knew if the pieces of some other puzzle hadn't gotten mixed in. everything had to be checked. Everything had to be verified. No part of the process was quick or simple, just steady work that taxed the mind while leaving the body restless.

When he finally came to and verified his conclusion it was hours later; Wayne nearly threw something through the screen.

* * *

Matt woke to a soft beeping and the humm of an air conditioner. He opened his eyes to walls that were a neutral off-white, and the smell of disinfectant and lemons registered a moment later. He didn't have to ask where he was, it was obvious he was at the hospital. The real question was, who knew he was there. Just the idea that his mom had found out sent shivers through him. He looked down at himself and then reached up, feeling the mask on his face. He was still wearing the Robin uniform, minus one leg which had been cut open revealing a carefully wrapped bandage. Funny he could have sworn the bandage had bled through when he had brought Ian in. He wondered who had redone it.

"Look at that. The boy's awake."

Robin looked up at the sound and found Barbara Gordon tucked into a bed across the room. She was sitting up, or rather her bed was propped up and she had been reading from a data-pad. Now she set it aside and softly removed the glasses from the end of her nose.

"You forgot the 'wonder'."

She slowly picked up one eyebrow.

"The boy wonder is awake. You know, 'cuse I'm Robin, the boy wonder." she showed no signs of recognition. "Well, trust me, the wonder is important."

"Kid, I don't care what you're called. I am quite prepared to strip you of that costume and lock you up until child services can sort out why a child has inserted himself into two active investigations; but you did help one of my officers. You get one chance, one warning, once you leave this room if I ever see that costume again you will find out just how much trouble I can drop on your shoulders. Do we have an understanding?"

Robin was quite certain that they did, but that didn't mean he hadn't spotted to loop holes in her words. "Once I leave here, you said. You're not turning me in this time?"

"Like I said. You helped one of my officers; and, someone I respect asked me to keep your location quiet."

"Mid-night?"

Barbara nodded.

"And have you? Kept it quiet, I mean."

"Only doctor Mid-night a handful of my people and two nurses with level five clearance know you are here."

Robin tried to remember his mom's clearance level. It was made harder by the fact that he wasn't certain if he had ever learned it in the first place. Robin nodded once and tried to look as if it was acceptable, if only barely. Barbara didn't seem convinced.

Now that they have that settled Robin took another chance to look around. The room was a pretty good size for a hospital room. It was one of the nicer, private rooms with a couple of chairs for guests and solid walls rather then curtain dividers. Babara's bed was the only one without wheels though three were currently in the room. The room's last occupant was asleep, with about a million wires and tubes hooked up to him. It was the main source of the beeping in the room.

And it was Ian.

Robin found himself staring. When he tried to talk his voice was suddenly gone, lost to a dry throat. Eventually he managed something along the lines of, "Is he?"

"They don't know. He's had two surgeries so far. They're letting him rest before the next round. The damage is extensive."

Robin just nodded, than his mouth started moving on its own. "I could hear him on the radio. It took me ages to find him, too long. That when I did find him… he was still awake. He told me to run, like I was the one in trouble. He couldn't do anything and he was still worried about me."

Barbara just nodded.

"I should go." Robin said when the silence had stretched to a strain.

Barbara looked over at him and there was a spark of something in her eyes. "Assuming you can walk out of this room, how were you planning on doing that? Doctor Mid-Night moved your car."

"He did? Oh, well, guess I'll have to call for a ride then."

Wayne answered when he called the cave. "Yes?" his voice was wrong and Robin took a moment to place why. He sounded old. Not just Wayne, I've been around for decades and know more then you will ever learn so shut it and do as you're told, age either. He sounded tired. Robin tried to imagine what that could mean and may have started panicking.

"T – Batman, is he ok? What happened?" he gasped, trying to control the rising panic long enough to get an answer.

"He made it back here. He's unconscious but I'm monitoring him."

"Then?"

Silence through the line and Robin bit down on his lip to keep from covering the static with questions.

"He managed to get the hard drive out after the building came down, but the files we needed were gone. They were deleted less than two hours before you got there."

The words were spoken to the air as Robin's arm went limp and landed on the bedspread. Barbara looked at the radio. Her forehead creased, then she was clenching her teeth and rubbing at one temple as she breathed in a regular rhythm.

"Spellbinder took 'em." The words were slurred and spoken in a low tone.

Both Barbara and Robin swung around to look at the other occupant of the room. Ian had managed to twist his head to one side. He wasn't so much looking at the room as fluttering his lashes in that direction. He might have been talking in his sleep, except that his hands were clenched in the sheets and there was a rigidity in his body. Barbara shifted and it was clear that if she had been able she would have gotten out of bed and checked on him, despite doctor's orders.

"Robin?" Wayne's voice came through the forgotten radio and Robin rushed to pick it up.

"Ian, that's the officer we rescued. He says Spellbinder took the files."

"I see. Is there anything else?"

Robin looked over at Ian and waited but the man seemed to have already given all he had.

"Umm, I think that's it." Robin didn't put any particular emphasis on the words. He looked down at the radio and flipped the dial to headphones like he should have done from the start. "Does that help?"

Wayne hesitated. "No, I don't think it does. We're out of time, and Terry's out of action. It's been hours, if Spellbinder hasn't escaped by now then he's a fool."

"And we need those files?"

"There's an encryption key in them, A sting of data 1064 million characters long. Without that exact string decrypting the sequence will take months." He left the fact that they would be lucky to have even a week unsaid.

"Could Max Help? She's good with computers."

"Maybe."

It was an, I'm humoring you, maybe, but Matt resolved to make sure someone called her. If Terry really was out of action they would need the extra hands.

"Well, maybe there's another computer, or a backup. He would have to have a backup right? I mean what if something went wrong? He'd have to have a backup. All we have to do is find it right? … right?" Robin was really trying to look on the bright side. He knew this couldn't be the end. Batman had gotten through too much for things to just end there. They had won. They had beaten Shriek, right? Spellbinder might have gotten away but they would get him too and everyone would know that it was Batman who had saved everybody. They would know, and they would know that he'd do it again next time too, so there had to be a Batman around for the next time and the one after that. Wayne should know that. He shouldn't just give up like that, it not how it works. Why wasn't he saying anything? Wayne should say something at least, something.

Through the comm Robin heard a sharp 'Ha' and the sound of crashing mettle and glass. The line cut out.

Robin stared into the middle distance waiting for the punchline until he realized the commissioner was looking at him as if she thought he was crazy, well crazier, a different kind of crazy. He decided to call Max, they needed a bit more sane in this group.

* * *

Hey all,

I didn't expect to post this chapter until early december since Nanowrimo is all consuming, but when I finished that last bit I figured, why not. Though, that does mean that this chapter has not been betaed. I've tried to look things over but, well, I probably missed something or other.

On another note I am trying to finish Partners during Nano, ok I've been working more on afterimage, but Partners is getting a lot of attention too so I think it's time I start asking the important questions.

Are any of you interested in reading an author's commentary? I've been thinking of putting together something like that at the end with a couple paragraphs on each chapter and maybe notes on what I was trying to do, or how things changed along the way. I don't want to bore any of you, but if you're interested in that kind of thing or have any lingering questions regarding anything at all, please leave a comment or send me a note.

Thank you to Desasaphira, kitsune foxfire, Jimmy candlestick, V, lenorathetrekkie, Harm Marie, and one guest, who did not leave a name, for reviewing the last chapter. Seriously Mr. Guest, leave a name next time so I can thank you properly.


	36. Chapter 36

"Well, maybe there's another computer, or a backup. He would have to have a backup right?" Robin was still talking on the other end of the line but Bruce had blocked most of it out. Another computer. Of course there was another computer. After all there was only the one code and Spellbinder and Shriek would have needed it as much as he did now. Any time they wanted to run the memory wipe they would need it and, while they had run Bruce, Barbara and Terry one after another, their first victim had been different.

When Wayne had learned that Miss Gibson was involved, he had done the research. He had found the missing 17 hours last monday. When she had been grabbed on the way back from the store late on the sunday only to be dumped in an ally three blocks from her house on the monday he had known it meant something. He hadn't known what though, and he hadn't been able to track her captor's van after it had turned onto Linwood. His running theory was that that had been when Max's memory had been wiped.

It made a wicked kind of sense when he put it together with the location of the dead end phone call that Terry had gone searching for. Only that hadn't turned out to be as much of a dead end as they had all thought. Luck or hidden training had made Terry grab the hard drive for the hover-vid platform. It was still sitting there untouched on one of the work tables.

Wayne let out a sharp bark of a laugh and grabbed up his cane. At the table he brushed the surface clear of debris letting the junk fall clattering to the floor and gently picked up the drive. Returning to the computer he rerouted all processing power to examining the drive.

He didn't let himself hope, just sank into a cold rationality as if it was a charm that would make everything turn his way. Even so, when the computer beeped it's completion he was a little too quick in looking up. He read the confirmation again and again, until his heart rate returned to a semblance of normal.

There it was, the last piece of this blasted, slime riddled mess. The encryption key slowly filed across the screen.

When Max got the call she didn't know what to think. The voice on the other end who was obviously Matt, she knows that voice even if he's calling himself Robin, didn't exactly give her a lot to go on. Heading out to Wayne Manor she could do. She could even do it fast, like he had said. But she was still a bit hazy as to the why.

The dog met her at the door. She had met the dog before but neither she nor the dog had yet to decide that the other wasn't a threat. The dog allowed her to enter after a warning growl and she headed to the library slash study where supposedly the why part of the evening would be answered. Instead she found a hole in the wall.

To their credit the hole wasn't some gaping leftover from a bullet or someone's head going through the plaster, but the mysterious staircase hidden behind the grandfather clock didn't exactly inspire confidence. Actually, it reminded her rather clearly of a horror movie she had seen recently. Max considered that and decided to move forward anyway. Horror movie or not, there was going to be something interesting at the bottom of those stairs.

What she found was an aged mad scientist cackling over his machines, or at least that's what it seemed like. Bruce Wayne wasn't actually cackling she supposed but from the stairs the excited murmuring might have been taken as such.

Max crossed to the computer slowly. The cave was mostly dark with the computer screen being one of the major sources of light. Beyond the edge of its reach though, there were things out in the dark. Most of them she couldn't identify and the ones she could, well, that couldn't be a real T-rex. Then she got close enough to actually read what was on the screen and stopped. It was incredible. He was coding at a level that she had never seen before. She was in the top of her class. Hell she was doing college level work and she could only follow bits and pieces of it.

"Shwey."

Wayne stopped, his hands freezing mid-line. He shifted back away from the keys and into his chair. He turned the chair just enough to see her before he spoke.

"Max. Robin called you?"

"Uh yeah, and what's with the Robin thing anyway? I mean, it's just Matt right?"

"It's a code name. Since you're here make yourself useful and go check on Terry. He in medical." Wayne pointed with his cane at the appropriate door. "And set up the MRI while you're in there. We're going to need some fresh scans."

Max did as told, entering the medical area as if she was stepping through the looking glass into a completely different world. This cave was bright, full of gleaming chrome and glass. The walls and ceiling of the cave were the only things still looking like what they were and even those were mostly covered. Then she saw Terry and forgot all about the scenery.

Max had to tell herself that it looked worse than it was, but she was not sure she believed it. He was so pale where the bruises weren't mapping every inch of his skin. There were slight shudders running through him and his breathing was shallow and irregular. When she took his hand, it was damp and clammy from sweat.

She didn't have a lot of experience with medical equipment, most of it limited to what had been taught in her CPR class so most of the readings were practically useless. Still, she didn't want to miss something so she noted them all down on a handy data-pad and brought it back out to Bruce for verification. His eyes went down the list steadily, ending with a firm nod before reminding her about the MRI.

That sent her running back to medical, first trying to figure out which one was the MRI machine, then trying to figure out how to turn it on. Thankfully it was more a computer then a medical instrument and she was able to muddle through.

Max just about had it figured out when she found the previous scans. There were several marked for both Terry and the old man and even one for the commissioner. When she opened the most recent one, she had to stop, blinking several times in order to work through what she was seeing. Max had studied plenty of chemistry and biology even the more medical sides of psychology. She found it fascinating to see how people worked from the inside out. The scan looked wrong, she could see that at once. Then she realized why and everything Terry had told her sank in to a much deeper level.

Terry had been forced to forget things, and so had she. Terry's mind had been torn apart, the connections between synapses ripped to shreds. And the same thing was happening right now within her own skull. Dear god, they were all going to die. She desperately hoped that it was a plan that Wayne was working on out there because things were bad.

She entered the main cave trying to look shwey while quietly biting at her lower lip. "Mr. Wayne? I think I've got the MRI up and running."

"Good I need a scan of you."

She had had a whole line of questions lined up that he totally de-railed.

"Umm, me? Why?"

"To test a theory. Will you need assistance or can you manage?"

"Umm no, I can do it."

Max was shunted out of the cave, none of her questions answered and the strange feeling that she had been manipulated settling onto her shoulders. She ran the MRI, all the while trying to tell herself that he knew what he was doing and she shouldn't get angry at him for one little thing. That didn't make it any easier of course. She hated being manipulated no matter who it was. He had played it masterfully. Next time she would be ready.

When she brought him the readouts of her own brain scan she was ready to counter whatever his next twisting attack would be. Then he asked her to check on Terry, because he thought he had read a fluctuation and she had agreed before she even realized what she was doing. Terry was fine. Well not fine obviously but there weren't any fluctuations. Only when she reported as such did Wayne asked her to make another scan of Terry just to be sure and he had made it sound reasonable. He sounded concerned with just the right amount of distant worry that he didn't want to show, but that it crept through anyway. By the time she had Terry in the MRI she was cursing herself for falling for it. Then she saw the damage done to Terry's mind and concern for her friend overcame any other emotion she might have been feeling.

She handed Wayne Terry's scans without a word. He glanced at her with a question in his eyes. She wasn't even trying to ask any of her questions now. She could handle some manipulation as long as Terry came out all right.

"Help him." Her words were weak and pleading but it got the point across.

"I intend to." This time he didn't send her away. He just spent a few minutes finishing up his program and held up the product turning to her. "This is my best guess. I don't know if this will fix the damage or just stop it from getting worse."

Max looked at the small drive in his hand. This time her voice was steady. "Try it on me first." She didn't care if she was being manipulated into it or if volunteering was her own idea. "I've got less damage than him, and if it goes wrong on me you can fix it for Terry."

"It's dangerous."

"So is running around with your brain melting out your ears. We don't have any time right? So get on with it."

He nodded and led her back into the medical room. This time it was her turn to lie down on one of the beds. Wayne set one leather worn hand on her forehead and with his own ears safely plugged held a micro-speaker next to her left ear.

Max stopped thinking after that.

Bruce watched as light shudders ran through Max. His touch kept her head settled on the pillow. Luckily they didn't last long. Almost as soon as they had reached down to her legs the convulsions stopped, settling into a boneless sleep.

He let out a breath. He hadn't been sure if the reaction would be violent. Now to see if it worked. He gave her a light sedative to keep her out and set the MRI to a slow constant scan. It might take hours to see any progress and he wanted to have as much data as possible.

As it turned out it took three hours twenty minutes before he was certain of what he was seeing. The damage hadn't been mapped as thoroughly for Max but he did have her first scan for a reference. The damage looked to have stopped. He couldn't tell how long it had taken but there was at least one definite spot where the damage seemed to be retreating.

They had done it. This mess was going to end and they had all survived.

Well maybe not everyone. He would have to deal with the situation surrounding Shriek. That could wait though. First he had more patients to see. As Bruce had done for Max, so he did for Terry, laying a hand on his head and waiting for the slight convulsions to stop. Terry had already been unconscious but when he had settled his brainwaves were less erratic, settling into the normal rhythms of REM sleep.

Bruce wanted to do more but he couldn't restore his own memories quite yet. There was a chance the sleep that followed was a side effect and not just a reaction to the stresses of the day. For him sleep could wait until after he had seen Barbara. He made sure the two kids were settled and went to start up one of his cars.

In an effort to stop the boredom Robin had started taking apart the clock. The device was annoyingly simple and it took him less than ten minutes to change the time zone, have it set itself forward by one second every midnight and implant a small camera and mike that he had stocked in his belt. He reassembled the clock and put it back on the table. The commissioner was back to studying her data-pad and Ian was out of it, which Robin didn't begrudge him, but there wasn't anything he could do. It didn't need to be anything big or important but he wanted to know to know what was happening at least. Beyond knowing that his brother had made it back to the cave he knew nothing about how the fight had ended, or any other progress that had been made.

Robin had gotten used to the idea of being involved with things. He wasn't just the kid with the radio hiding under his blankets anymore. He had stepped in and done damage and gotten hurt and made a difference. He didn't want to be cut out of everything again.

Bruce Wayne entered the room despite the security surrounding it and the fearsome nurse who was still stalking anyone who approached the forbidden hallway. The long overcoat and the large bag he carried hid the fact that he was using his cane more heavily than usual. Closing the door and locking it behind him he turned to the room like a king looking over his lands. Robin tried not to say anything despite his excitement; Barbara might not know he was involved. Although the look she was giving him, like she wasn't fooled one bit by the man behind the curtain, said she might have some idea.

"Bruce." The commissioner was not amused.

"Barbara." Wayne didn't care.

They just exchanged glares for about thirty seconds before the commissioner weakened and looked away. "Just give me something Bruce. I know this is bigger than I can see but I can't keep wandering in the dark."

Wayne looked away that time, out towards the window and the city beyond. "No, you're right. You do deserve to know." He turned back to her. "It's not going to be easy though, or pleasant."

"What in life is?"

"Fair enough." He gave her the briefest overview of the case ending in showing her the micro-speaker.

She looked from him to the device in his hand. "That's it?"

"The kid found the key to it." Wayne nodded back at Robin.

"I did?" Robin hadn't meant to speak up. It wasn't like he could get kicked out of the room but he didn't want to push it.

"You were right about the backup."

Robin let the grin he was feeling spread across his face.

Wayne turned back to Barbara. "There was marked improvement in the scans from my test case. We won't know for certain until they wake up but I believe this should restore your memories."

She took a silent breath and nodded.

"Alright then, lean back. Robin, earplugs." Bruce made sure that Robin's earplugs were in as well as his own before leaning over and turning on the signal. Barbara's reaction mirrored Terry's and Max's, and a minute later she was out. Bruce removed his earplugs with a slowly released breath and turned to Robin.

Wayne gestured with his cane to the bag he had come in with. "There's a change of clothes in there, and I checked the nurses schedule on the way in. your Mother should be getting off shift in fifteen minutes. If you can walk on that leg then that can be our excuse to be here and you can get a ride home at the same time."

"What? I don't want to go home. What about Terry?"

Wayne was already holding up a hand to stop him. "You've already been away from home for longer then is wise. If Robin is going to keep having a secret identity, then he needs to spend some time living it. Terry has an excuse to be away at all hours, you don't."

Stupid logic. Robin pouted but got up testing his leg. It hurt but he could walk on it if he was careful. The trick would be hiding the limp. At least with the long weekend he could spend the next few days on the couch and rest without drawing suspicion.

Robin changed back into Matt while Wayne played lookout. Then they both put on false smiles and went to find his mom.

It was another four hours before Wayne made it back to the manner. First Mary's shift had run late and they had volunteered to wait. Then they had decided to take his car since she had been going to take the bus back, except she had also been going to pick up some things for dinner so they made a detour. Traffic was bad the entire time but that was par for the course in Gotham.

Bruce was greeted by Ace at the door then he settled his mind by looking in on Terry and Max. There was definite progress according to the scans, and both of them were still sleeping like the dead. Satisfied, he sat down at the computer and made one last update to his notes on the case. Closing the file he made his way upstairs, and settled into the large obscenely comfortable chair in front of the fire. He looked up at the picture of his parents, then with a hand on Ace's head he held up the micro-speaker and flipped it on.

* * *

With the posting of this chapter I would like to announce that I have finished writing Partners. There will be 37 chapters and an epilogue when fully posted. I'm giving chapter 37 one last look over now. It's been over two years in the writing, and I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did.

MirokuTK was the beta for these last three bits.

Thank you to Mesmerizing Ducks, Desasaphira, Lenorathetrekkie, V, Lacewing, Kitsune Foxfire, Harm Marie, and an unnamed guest for reviewing chapter 35.


	37. Chapter 37

Terry woke screaming. He was in pain but that wasn't the reason. Hell, it wasn't even that uncommon. He was normally in some state of recovery for something or other. No the reason for his terror was much more primal.

He had been dreaming. Normally his dreams, when he had any at all, were surreal and unfocused. Not this time. It was so real. There was red on his hands. He had been lost, hadn't known who he was, and there was red on his hands.

He pushed the dream back and realized that he actually hurt a lot more then normal. Seriously, who had he been fighting? Blight, he remembered fighting blight, and there might have been some members of Cobra, after that it was a blur. He must have been extra super sleep deprived if he was forgetting things. Well never mind he was back in the cave now and while injured he got to sleep as much as he wanted.

From the next bed came a groan. Terry looked over to see Max pulling her pillow over her head. Max could handle late nights like the best of them but waking up was a pain. Terry might have slipped away and let her wake up on her own if he thought he could move that much. Instead he fumbled for a data-pad that had been left on a nearby surface. He brushed away the science that popped up and logged in to his home server. He would try to get some homework done while he could. Chances were this free time would end faster then he could get used to it.

Half an hour later he had given up on homework and was playing tetris when Max finally rolled over and admitted to wakefulness.

"Morning sunshine." he set aside the data-pad.

"Frag you McGinnis."

"Only if you ask nicely. You awake enough to go find Wayne for me?"

She propped herself up on her elbows and finally took in her surroundings. "This, this is the batcave."

Terry put on a shocked expression. "Why yes, so it is. With observational skills like those you could be a detective. So, think you can go find him?"

She swung her feet off the bed, took a moment to steady herself then wandered towards the door.

"Max?"

"Yeah?"

"Wayne first, then you can look around. I'm in a little bit of pain here and he knows where the good drugs are."

"Right. Be right back."

Wayne did indeed know where the good drugs were, but in this case he chose to withhold them, the stubborn old bastard. It was all good though since he reached for the nanobots. Ok so they actually had some fancy acronym name that was all sciency but they were nanobots.

The bots were yet another brainchild of Wayne Enterprises that had been deemed to expensive and impractical for consumer production. Plus you know, if it fell into the wrong hands that would be bad. Programing the bots to move through a human body, identify damaged areas, and repair them all while safely avoiding healthy flesh was a programing nightmare; so naturally it had been a bunch of half drunk college seniors who had managed to make it work. Yet another case where Wayne Scholarships had furthered the cause of science.

The problem with the bots was that the body needed to be active for them to identify what was working and what wasn't, meaning no sedatives, no pain killers and a lovely little electric shock being sent through him about every fifteen seconds.

The procedure would take four hours.

"I hate you."

"Good." Wayne grunted. "Next time watch your back better."

Terry had another comeback but it got lost somewhere between his mouth and the pain.

Officer Hawk got out of his last surgery about three hours after Barbara finally woke up. Whatever they had her on had put her under hard. She knew the feeling, the post case haze where you couldn't even seem to remember what happened until you read the mission reports. It was a pain but she had dealt with it before. She was more concerned with the young officer.

He had been thoroughly worked over, and while the doctors had declared him stable it, would be a long three months of physical therapy before he could even think about normal life. When faced with something that hard; most men folded. It was a shame. There were still a lot of gaps in his knowledge and he had needed experience to season him but he would have become a good officer.

And speaking of good officers. Jai West entered the room without knocking. He was looking down at a data-pad skimming the files before coming to attention. He looked and acted like he was in his early twenties though he was considerably older. His features had an asian tilt to them which was countered by the freckles he got from his father. His naturally black hair was still died an outrageous shade of red.

"Officer West have I not given you strict orders to dye that ridiculous hair."

Jai let the smile onto his face. "You have, but I must again remind you commissioner that the GCPD regulation state that officer hair color may be any natural shade and Red is my family color." His tone turned concerned "It's good to have you back. You weren't acting like yourself there for a while."

She brushed it off. "I'm fine. What's the report."

He looked down at the data-pad again. "Well your most recent scans show minimal damage. The doctors are still freaking out about that spot of your brain but since it's not there now they don't really have an excuse to hold you. With your other injuries they'll probably try to keep you another day or so for observation."

"Hmmm, I should probably humor them."

"Probably."

She made to get out of bed.

On her way out she paused by Officer Hawk's bed. "See that someone is watching him, will you? He deserves some peace."

Jai nodded. "Already done."

The alert came when Terry was trying to repair the damage to his mask. The visual sensors were mostly shot and while he could still use some of the filters to see, the regular vision and night vision settings were both completely fouled up.

"Suit up."

"Now? My visor is still a mess. Who is it?"

"Spellbinder. An account was accessed by one of his aliases out near the harbor."

Frag, Spellbinder was like the last of the jail-breakers who was still at large, and he really wanted to be done with that mess. Heat vision would just have to be good enough. He grabbed the rest of the suit, slipped into it and pulled the cowl into place.

"Coordinates?"

"I'm sending them to the car."

Terry hit the throttle and pushed the car up into the sky. God he loved this job. It was a pity the camo was still off line he would have enjoyed running Spellbinder over with an invisible car. Instead, once he reached the area he slipped out of the car and took to the sky.

Wayne spoke up in his ear. "Found a boat rental for our man. Keep a lookout for the Water Beetle."

"Got it."

He found the boat trying to make a turn around the cape. The driver clearly knew next to nothing about what he was doing. Terry was going to enjoy this.

He landed on the bow of the ship letting his boots magnetize to the hull and ignoring the waves that were coming in hard around him. He crossed his arms and let the fear of Batman sweep over his foe. Back in the wheelhouse Spellbinder jerked sending the craft into a turn. Batman kicked forward and landed on the deck. Spellbinder turned off the engine, letting the craft drift to a stop amid the steady rocking.

"Well, Batman, it seems you've found me, but forgive me if I remind you that you haven't caught me yet." Spellbinder held up a hand and in a flash there were dozens of copies all over the deck. Each of them were moving, trying to slip away or get in a quick strike that would give him the time to fully escape.

Batman looked around, unmoving. "You know Spellbinder, today really isn't your day." In his vision the illusions stood out as shimmering outlines with barely a wisp of a heat signature. The real Spellbinder flinched, his heat signature a brilliant red against the black cold of the water.

Batman went to work.

Matt couldn't understand it. It just wasn't adding up. After five days, two of which his brother had actually been home for, well sometimes, no one had said a thing. Terry didn't even glance at him during the few minutes in the morning where they were both awake at the same time. Matt made sure he was in the house when Terry got home from school, but when he went off to work he still called it work. He didn't even make some hidden allusion to saving the city. Even when they were alone and Matt asked extremely leading questions Terry never mentioned Batman.

At first he thought it was just Terry brushing him off, but as it went on he wasn't as convinced. He was acting exactly like Terry from before. Like a Terry who didn't know that Matt knew; didn't know Robin was watching his back.

Because Matt was Robin now.

Once he had figured that Terry didn't know he turned to Wayne. He kept the communicator with him everywhere he went, but all his calls got routed through the bat systems and were never answered. He didn't know what to do. Except maybe he did. He already knew what Robin went through, and he knew that he was not at all prepared for it. Oh maybe his hacking skills were up to par but nothing else was. Only Batman, either of them, could teach him some things. He wasn't going to be able to find a class in lock picking or escape artist stuff in school, but other things weren't so specific.

Matt planned his next move carefully. He started by ordering and watching half a dozen old kung-fu movies very loudly and with much enthusiasm.

"Hey Mom, can I learn martial arts?"

Wayne waited until Terry was safely on patrol to open the file he didn't remember writing. The case notes explained quite a bit about the haze overshadowing the week following the jail break. The fact that he didn't remember anything it spoke of was rather disturbing. And apparently he wasn't the only one. Terry showed no conscious memory of his fight with Shriek. He would mutter in his sleep and sometimes unconsciously look down at his hands, but he never made any mention of it otherwise. He had been twitchy until they had fixed the suit, which Bruce had put down to nerves at the time. Since then though it had gone deeper, becoming less apparent.

Max had made a big deal about finally seeing the Batcave and completely skated over how she had gotten there. At that point getting her out of the cave had been the problem. Even when he had managed it he had had to check her bag for the Batgirl costume on the way out. That was one mess he was not going to get into if he could help it.

Barbara might have been a problem. She tended to ask questions that weren't easy to answer. Luckily she had been in the hospital so there was a good chance she would chalk it up to head trauma. Her people were another matter. He had used his backdoor into the police servers and found several reports that mentioned Robin. With some careful editing no one would know better, but real people couldn't be quieted so easily.

Well, rumors about Batman and by extension Robin had existed since he had created the persona. This would just be one more. And if it turned into more than that, well, he would keep an eye on the boy, and see how things went. Matt at least seemed determined to not be left behind. Martial arts seemed to be only the beginning for that boy. Maybe Bruce would send some books home with Terry and see where it led.


	38. epilogue

Epilogue:

Terry was dead tired. He never had a chance to get a proper sleep anymore and when he did have time for a few short hours, like now, he couldn't seem to shut down enough to actually fall asleep. A part of him knew why. Another larger part said that even the idea was crazy and he should just get over it or forget it because really this was getting annoying. Eventually he would sleep simply by the expediency of being too tired to care or think anymore.

Then the dreams would come and it would start all over. He would wake screaming or out of breath and sweating. He would spend the first few minutes reliving the dream, then the next ten or so convincing himself with every logical argument he could think up that the dreams were only dreams. Except then he wouldn't be able to get to sleep, because secretly he was sure he would slip back into that world and be lost.

In his dreams the world was red. He was fighting as Batman and the red was filling him up with rage. He didn't say anything, and maybe he couldn't, because every time he opened his mouth all that came out was a growl or a cry or a wordless scream. That alone would have been bad.

Terry liked to talk. In a way it was another shield for him. On the streets he had learned that if you ran your mouth people got angry and anger in a fight made people lose their heads. Sometimes it had backfired, and he'd gotten beaten bad, but more often he'd been able to make his move because they never realized where they were standing or that they had left themselves open.

There was only one fight that he could remember in which he had never said a word. He had been young, still running with the wrong people and he'd been dragged into something way bigger than his level. Someone had gotten angry, he couldn't remember the reason anymore, but it scared Terry. They told him to fraggin shut it and then beat him. When he had cried out, tried to act tough and cuss them out, someone had shoved a sock into his mouth. And because there were four of them and he didn't know what was happening until it was too late he was handed the beating of his life.

He liked to talk. He didn't have the silent control that Bruce could slip into so easily. Plus he was good at it, so why not play to his strengths.

Fighting silently like in the dream would only ever happen if someone sewed his mouth shut or if he had fallen off his rocker.

And as bad as that was it was the least of his issues with the dream. The red, that endless pounding, the way he couldn't see through the dust and the fog. The way his hands, balled into fists, lashed out until they were covered in blood. The way the figure under him went limp. That was how it ended, that was how it always ended, in a sea of red.

There was so much fear and anger tied up with it, like a flood. He hated it. The emotions were too strong. They left him feeling helpless, without the rational control that he lived with every day. He never felt things like that.

There was red on his hands. Sometimes he almost thought he could feel it.

He knew it was a dream. Only a dream and nothing more. But it wouldn't leave him alone. If it persisted he would be too tired to think in school, too tired to react out in the field. There was only so far he could push his body and if he kept going someone would get hurt. If he was lucky it would only be himself.

He wanted to go at the problem rationally, but logic hadn't worked and he was just so tired. It wasn't a rational problem in any case.

He wondered if this was what Wayne and the commissioner had warned him about. He had thought all the regrets he would cultivate would be from not saving people, not this red mess of a nightmare.

He wanted the dreams to just go away. When it came down to it, he didn't know what to do about them. If only they would just stop. So he didn't think about it. He pushed it down into the very back of his mind and forgot about it until the small hours of the morning called him finally to bed and there was nothing to distract him. He closed his eyes in the dark and the images came. Then he would get up and turn on the small lamp on his desk. When he tried closing his eyes that time there was red. It was always red. Red like blood, like heat, like rave lights. Red like the Gotham sky.

He was so tired. So tired. He just wanted sleep.

Red.

* * *

It took Bruce longer than it should have to track down what Doctor Mid-night had done after leaving Matt at the hospital. It took even longer to track down the man himself. When he finally spoke to the other hero it was through a shaky vid-phone connection. The doctor had been assisting with the aftermath of a bombing in Chiro and hadn't consented to the conversation until the dying were either dead or out of danger. When he finally did appear on screen there were still traces of blood on his gloves and sand and brick dust covered his uniform.

"Bruce."

"Pieter."

"I suppose you want the details on what happened in Gotham?"

"I do."

The doctor sighed and adjusted his chair before he spoke.

Doctor Mid-Night had finished with Robin and made his way back to the roof. He wasn't sure if he would be able to fly the batmobile but it was his best shot and they couldn't just leave the thing on the roof in any case. He dismissed the one remaining officer and climbed into the pilot seat. Most of the electronics seemed to be shot but he managed to work out the basic steering and find a record of the rout the car had taken.

Pieter had never flown this kind of car before but he managed fairly well all things considered. At least no one was injured. That would have been rather counter productive, considering he was supposedly driving to Batman's rescue. Not that he had much of an idea of where he was going, he was just following the trail back the way car had come.

He knew when he got there. The giant crater was something of a give away.

The doctor shifted down on the altimeter until the car settled into the earth. The site was a mess. Pieter had seen it before more often then he liked to think about it. The building had been blown open from the inside then collapsed down and in. it made the ground unsteady to walk on and if the building had been populated no one would have escaped. Luckily that didn't seem to be the case. The doctor looked for casualties in any case.

This was where Doctor Mid-Night's talents shown as a hero. Oh, he certainly knew how to throw a punch, but his talents were a lot more useful than just being able to put people in jail. On top of that he had enough experience to know what rock might be trapping a still living person.

The doctor found only one person in the ruins and they hadn't been trapped or crushed by the falling building. They had been beaten, badly.

Mid-Night didn't know who the man was but he had been in the hero circles long enough to know a costumed villain when he saw one. The doctor looked down at the man and had to wonder if Batman had done the damage or if there was another factor he didn't know about.

Well it didn't really matter now. The fight was over and if Batman had been responsible he must have fared better than this man if he had been able to walk away afterwards. Dr. Mid-Night knelt and got to work.

"Well?" Wayne was not amused at the sudden stop in the tale.

The doctor turned away. "I took care of things, that's all you need to know."

"Not good enough." Wayne's voice was a growl and anyone who knew who he really was would have been able to hear the difference and know what it meant.

The doctor didn't turn to face him, just kept looking off to the side. "I'm sorry Batman, but it'll have to be."

"Did you save him?" his voice was still deep but his anger was cold and controlled.

"I'm a doctor." Pieter looked back with just his eyes, still not turning his head. His eyes were hot, burning.

"We both know that's not an answer."

It was true, quite apart from complications on the operating table; Doctor Cross wasn't the strictest follower of the Hippocratic Oath. He had once been stripped of his license for attempting an operation with a smaller chance of success than anyone else would have been comfortable with. After that he hadn't had many qualms about using his skills to threaten and torment when the situation called for it.

"I did my best. He was stable when he left my care."

"Then he's alive?"

"I don't know. He was stable the last time I saw him but his wounds were severe."

"Terry was fairly certain that he killed him."

"Well I did have to resuscitate him twice before I was done and it wasn't like I was stitching him up in a sterile environment. If there was an infection, he might still die."

"You really don't know what his situation is?" it was a question only in the technical sense. Bruce was quickly running out of patience and the fact that he couldn't physically reach through the connection and grab the man by the front of his shirt, was annoying as hell.

"I really don't."

"Then who the hell did you hand him over to?" The doctor didn't answer. "I know he was in no shape to leave on his own, and while he may be hated by plenty of people in my city, there are a few who owe him, or would like him to owe them. If he's loose in my city you will tell me."

"I would have told you already." Pieter finally turned to face him fully. "You're right I did hand him over to someone, but I'm not enough of a fool to hand him over to anyone who walked off the street. He's with someone I trust, and that's all I will say."

Bruce could have fought him on it. Could have threatened, and begged and traded, but he didn't think the man would talk. It would be a wasted effort. Better to follow the physical evidence and judge what he found himself. Bruce waited, just staring for a few minutes before he reached up and cut the connection without another word.

All that and he still didn't have the truth. Well, he would keep looking. Nothing could hide forever.

* * *

Ian had spent the three months in the hospital and going through rehabilitation. He had hated it. Every moment he was reminded of what he had endured. Every time he woke up to those white walls he knew that he had been broken and that nothing would really be able to fix him.

He had scars. Most of them were on his arms from the beating. The ones on his chest were mostly from the surgeries afterword.

Then he had finally been released and he had thought he was free. He thought he could put his back to it all. For injuries like his six-months paid leave were allotted so he had time to relax before he had to make any decision on that front. He had thought it would get easier. It didn't. Susan was kind and supported him, but she was going to school full time and working part time on top of it. She didn't have time to coddle him.

That first week he stayed home and did absolutely nothing. It should have been restful, instead he found himself stalking through the apartment jumping at every little thing. He turned on the radio and the TV with the volume up just so he could listen to the voices.

Week two, even that wasn't enough. He went on walks, out of doors, to parks and malls, anywhere he knew there would be people. By the end of the month, that too had lost its effectiveness. He needed to be doing something. He needed people to talk to. He needed some connection he could cling to so he wouldn't get dragged into the darkness where that endless beat still thumped.

When he asked for a meeting with the commissioner, he didn't really expect her to agree to it. There were plenty of things she had to deal with and one more broken man shouldn't have rated high on her list. Then he had found himself seated in the chair across a desk from her, and he had no plans for what he was going to say.

"Am I going to get laid off?" Ian hadn't realized he was scared of the possibility until he asked the question.

"What happened wasn't your fault, everyone knows that. You would be within your rights to ask to be let go or to be shifted to a desk position. If you do decide to continue you will be assigned a new partner and there will be a long psych evaluation process while everyone tiptoes around you acting as if you might break at any moment. Your supervisor will be watching you for any mistakes or any of the signs of suicide. You can of course request a transfer out of Gotham. The cause of your injuries wouldn't be specified on the transfer so people would probably assume you were in the wrong place at the wrong time rather than look at you with pity. If you wanted to transfer departments we can facilitate any training you might need. It's up to you."

She laid out his options in a flat tone, not hiding any of the harsh truths.

"I don't want to leave." his voice was steady even if it wasn't very strong.

The commissioner nodded.

Ian started talking, stronger now as if he couldn't let the silence catch him. "I know people will think I'm broken, and I am but I can't just leave it. I can't just take what I've been given and move on. I know I should be cutting that part out of my life but I can't. I need to be doing something, something worthwhile. Everything's been so empty and the emptier it gets the more I go back there. I can't go back there. If I'm doing something then maybe it can keep me from falling. Maybe eventually I'll be able to look in the mirror and see something other than just, that." He went on. He knew he was rambling and half pleading, and probably wasn't making any sense but she was the first one who had just sat and listened. Even the doctors hadn't had that look of understanding. She knew what he was going through, what he was fighting. Because it was a fight, every day, and he was terrified at the thought of loosing.

When he finally ran out of words she nodded.

"Are you sure you don't want to get out now?"

His turn to nod.

"Alright then. I'll expect you to finish the month on leave. It'll take that long to finalize the paperwork in any case." Her hands moved to the keyboard at her right and started typing.

"Paperwork?"

"You're being transferred, although given your current station and experience it could be considered a promotion." She hit a button on her desk and spoke to the secretary screening her calls. "Do we know if officer West is in the building?"

"I believe so Ma'am. Should I send him up?" the secretary asked.

"Please do." the commissioner looked up then to see Ian's bewildered expression. She came around the desk to stand in front of his chair. "Do you know what my first impression of you was, officer?"

"No, Ma'am."

"I thought that you were a bright kid. But I know this city, it likes to throw its worst at you and I've seen the light go out of more people then you know. I saw you in the hospital and I thought that was it. People have broken over a hell of a lot less. Then you come in here and I was fully expecting it to turn into a resignation. Instead you talked my ear off for over fifteen minutes about how you want to stay."

There was a knock at the door and a young man with red hair glanced around the doorframe. Gordon motioned for him to come in.

"Officer Ian Hawk, Meet Officer Jai West. Your new partner."

Jai looked from Gordon down to Ian and smiled. He held out a hand. "Hey, welcome to the MCU. I'm looking forward to working with you."

Ian took the hand but didn't really process the fact that he was shaking it. The MCU, he was being transferred to the Major Crimes Unit. Gordon's personal unit. The unit that regularly dealt with everything from terrorists to superhuman cat-burglars, to the villain of the week attempting to blow up the harbor with an overpowered stolen nuclear toast dispenser.

Ian looked up at Gordon. "I've changed my mind. Can I just have a nice cozy desk job instead?"

Gordon just leaned back against her desk, letting the corners of her mouth slide upward.

Jai let himself laugh, "Oh you were right Gordon. This is going to be fun. Come on rookie, I'll show you where all the excitement happens."

Ian's new partner headed for the door. Ian sent one last appealing look towards Gordon but she was impervious. Apparently the universe just had it out for him.

* * *

And there it is. The last little bit down on the page. God I loved writing this story. Since I'm not sure if I've told everyone ( rather then just as reply's to commenters ) I will eventually be writing a sequel. Inheritance will be the title, though I'm not sure when I'll start in on it. There will also be a commentary which I will post hopefully before the end of the year. In the mean time please enjoy Afterimage and the other short stories that will no doubt be coming soon.

Thank you to Little Karma, eset, Lenorathetrekkie, Harm Marie, and Kitsune Foxfire for reviewing the last chapter. And thank you to all the others who have faved or commented or decided to watch this story in the two years I've been writing it. You've all been wonderful.

Peace, Out.


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